The False Queen
by Sarahrose660
Summary: The Awyren clan are training their next member of the elite, in a plot to overthrow Uther. Merlin secretly longs for the prince he left behind… while Arthur is at the mercy of a trusted friend who might not be all she seems…
1. Concentrate, Merlin

I posted the first draft of this ages ago, but I wasn't happy with it, so I deleted it. Well, this is the new (hopefully better) version.

Note: Gwen is OOC. Sorry about that.

Pairings: Merlin/Arthur, Arthur/Gwen (sort of)

Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin... I only have the boxsets :)

And finally.... dedicated to my lovely friend Emily, who helped me get over several months of writers block in one conversation x

The False Queen

Chapter 1 – Concentrate, Merlin

Merlin never let himself get swept away when he was with Arthur. Not when he bathed him, not when he watched him fight, not even when Arthur said something mildly suggestive. He couldn't. Merlin found that his magic was prone to burst free if he wasn't careful, and he couldn't let that happen; not ever.

The sword swung, cutting the air with a loud whistle. Arthur dodged sideways, narrowly missing the blade as it passed over his head. The new knight was very skilled, and it was taking all of Arthur's talent with a sword just to fend him off. Breathing heavily, he raised his shield to parry another blow, and tried to land a one in return. He was unsuccessful, but the move wrong-footed his opponent. The man stumbled slightly, giving Arthur the chance he needed. Grunting a little, he thrust his sword forwards into the knight's breastplate, knocking him off of his feet. Arthur grinned; he had won. He always won.

Half an hour later, Arthur strode into his chamber, closely followed by Merlin, who was carrying his armour.

"Merlin, you need to repair my armour, clean it, muck out my horses…." Merlin didn't catch the rest. He had totally zoned out, just watching Arthur's lips move, to way they shaped themselves when he spoke, the way his tongue occasionally darted out to wet them.

"Merlin! Merlin!" Merlin glanced up startled. Arthur was regarding him with an annoyed expression.

"Merlin! Were you even listening to me?" Arthur asked, raising his eyebrows. The action distracted Merlin; he fought to regain focus.

"Err, yeah." Merlin lied. Arthur rolled his eyes.

"Then tell me what I said?" Merlin stayed silent; he didn't know. Arthur sighed.

"Merlin, you are such an idiot! What is wrong with you today?" Merlin looked down at the floor, unable to raise his eyes.

"Nothing." He made to leave, heading towards to door. Arthur strode quickly in front of him, and closed it, pushing Merlin up against a wall.

"What's wrong?" Arthur asked again, getting frustrated. Merlin shook his head.

"Nothing, Arthur." Merlin became aware of how close he and Arthur were; they were practically pressed up against each other. Merlin tried to move, but Arthur wouldn't let him.

"Merlin, what is wrong?"

Arthur too was conscious of the distance between him and his manservant; or rather, the lack of it. He could feel himself becoming aroused as he gazed into Merlin's eyes. The minutes stretched, neither of them saying anything. Finally, Arthur could take it no more. Closing his eyes, he leant forward slightly, and pressed his lips to Merlin's. The other boy responded almost instantly, kissing him back with a passion that surprised Arthur.

Merlin was in heaven. The feel of Arthur's mouth on his was better than he had ever dared to imagine. For once, Merlin didn't want to be careful, he didn't want to hold back. As the kiss grew more intense, Merlin could feel his control slipping away. He opened his eyes, struggling to subdue the feelings coursing through him. Desperately, he tried to push Arthur off of him, but it was too late. All at once, the wind began to rise, rain began to fall, lightning struck, goblets melted, vases smashed and Merlin's eyes burned gold. Arthur, disturbed by the sudden noise, pulled away from Merlin, just in time to see his eyes change colour.

"Arthur…" Merlin started, before he was stopped by Arthur kissing him again. Merlin pushed him off of him.

"But…. You saw what just happened…. I'm a sorcerer, Arthur." Arthur nodded.

"Yes, I did notice that, Merlin." He remarked sarcastically, before kissing Merlin lightly.

"But…" Merlin tried again.

"Merlin," Arthur said firmly, "I don't care. I'm not my father, I'm not like him. I can't believe that you would ever threaten this kingdom. As long as no one else knows, then we'll be fine." He kissed Merlin again, oblivious the various objects that were moving of their own accord around them.

Gwen scurried down the corridor, clutching a huge pile of Morganna's dresses to her chest. They needed to be cleaned. All of them! As if I don't have enough to do, Gwen thought crossly to herself. She was just passing Arthur's chamber doors, when she heard voices, raised louder than normal. Intrigued, she dumped her load onto the floor, and pressed her ear against the door. She was just in time to hear:

"I'm a sorcerer, Arthur." Gwen gasped, and then cursed herself, praying that no one inside the room had heard her. Slowly, she lowered her eye to the keyhole, and let her mouth fall open as she saw Arthur passionately kissing Merlin. The same Merlin who had, moments before, confessed himself to being a sorcerer.

Gwen drew back, careful not to make a sound, even though inside, she was buzzing and seething, all at once. Seething because how dare Arthur kiss Merlin? Arthur was meant to be hers; how else could she be queen? But Merlin being a sorcerer… that was interesting. He had certainly kept that quiet, she mused. Nevertheless, she needed Merlin out of the way, and after all, everyone knew how magic was treated in Camelot…

Gwen bundled the laundry into her arms, and set off into a fast run down the corridors, desperate to find Uther. She burst into the hall with no announcement, relieved to see that the King was alone, with only Sir Leon for company. King Uther turned angrily as she banged in, glaring at her in a truly intimidating way.

"What is the meaning of this, girl?" He bellowed, as Leon took a small step back. Gwen, as she had planned to do, broke down into sobs.

"Oh, your majesty, I'm so sorry. But… I… I..." Gwen fell to the floor, still sobbing. Uther looked faintly ruffled.

"Are you ok?" Sir Leon asked kindly, not entirely sure what to do with himself. He settled for folding his hands behind his back, and trying to look noble.

"No... I… I am so scared. There… he… he's a sorcerer, my lord!

"Who is?!" Uther demanded, as his attention was finally caught.

"Please, sire… he'll kill me if he finds out I told…."

"You need not fear. Only I and Sir Leon will know that you told us."

Gwen took a deep breath, as though steadying herself.

"Merlin, your majesty."

"Prince Arthur's manservant?" Sir Leon asked.

"Yes. He's with him now, all alone, but I didn't…. I couldn't." Gwen dissolved once more into loud tears. Uther quickly strode towards the door, Leon closely on his heels.

"Guards." He said sharply. Several fell into step behind them. Moving quickly, they headed towards Arthur's chambers.

Rising up from the floor, Gwen smiled to herself. Arthur would be hers. She would be Queen, no matter what.


	2. Against the laws of Camelot

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin_

_A/N: I wrote this really quickly, and as I have no beta, I'm sorry for any mistakes made._

The False Queen

Chapter 2 – Against the laws of Camelot

Uther strode down the castle passageways as fast as he could, whilst still looking kingly. The servant girl's tale was only just starting to sink into his mind. He sped up in fear as he thought of his son, his Arthur, alone with a dark wizard. Uther shuddered, imagining what could be happening to his heir. Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime, they arrived outside Arthur's bedchamber. Muffled noises were coming from within.

"When I say, enter and grab the magician." Uther whispered. Throwing the door open, he marched in, and gasped. The sight that met his eyes was far worse than anything he could have imagined. Lying on the bed was Arthur. His hands were being held above his head by the dark haired servant boy, and he was topless. Both boys were. The candles around them flickered on and off as the sorcerer worked his dark magic. The prince and his servant boy froze, as Uther viewed the scene before him. Uther could feel the fear and hatred inside of him building, higher and higher like a wave. It only took him a few moments to regain his composure, however, before he gave the order.

"Seize him!" Uther roared, fuming. The guards threw themselves forward, and grabbed the sorcerer roughly, not caring if they hurt him. In fact, if they did, that was a bonus. Merlin struggled, trying to get free, but reluctant to use his magic to cause harm.

"Father!" Arthur leapt up from the bed.

"What are you doing? Let go of him!" He yelled at the guards, who paid him no notice. Uther too ignored him. Turning to the guards, he regarded the boy held between them. His eyes were an odd mix of blue, flecked through with gold, his lips red and swollen. Uther noted that he looked scared as well, but he could feel no sympathy for this monster that had attacked his only son.

"Take him to the dungeons. He dies at dawn."

Gwen stood up, and headed back to Morganna's chambers. Her lady would need her hair brushed: again! Gwen resented Morganna. She was a lady; she got to parade around in beautiful dresses while Gwen had to scrub the floor she walked upon.

"One day," Gwen hissed spitefully to herself, "One day I'll be a lady, the Queen of Camelot no less, and then we'll see who is scrubbing the floor." Arranging her face into a caring smile, she knocked on the door.

"Come in." Morganna called out, smiling in pleasure when she saw that it was Gwen who entered.

"My Lady." Gwen curtsied, sounding perfectly pleasant, her voice betraying not one hint of the malice it has held mere seconds ago.

Forceful hands grabbed at Merlin, roughly dragging him from the chambers. He cried out, praying desperately that someone would help him, but all he got was a backhand from one of the guards. There were steps, too steep and wicked for his struggling legs to manage; he stumbled, slipping and falling. The guards laughed mockingly, and grabbed him yet tighter, if that was even possible.

"Please!" He cried out again, but no one answered. And then there were the cell doors, and manacles, clamped tightly around his wrists. He could feel them chaffing, could already feel them drawing blood.

"Arthur!" He yelled at the top of his voice, ignoring the guard's raucous mirth. The door swung closed, and Merlin slumped down against the wall. Alone; he was alone.

Uther moved towards his son, relieved that nothing seemed to be wrong with him. He went to hug him, a rare gesture, but Arthur coldly pushed him away.

"Arthur, I was so worried. I thought, for one second, that you might have been…"

"Father," Arthur cut in, taking a step towards Uther "You've got this wrong. Merlin wasn't hurting me! I… I love him." He finished, painfully aware of what h had just said. Not that he was ashamed, fair from it; but he did worry about Uther's reaction.

"Arthur, he is a sorcerer. He has bewitched you, but you need not be afraid. He'll be dead by this time tomorrow, and his hold on you will be broken." Arthur's expression changed from one of defiance to one of anger.

"He did not bewitch me! You can't kill him, he's innocent!"

"I saw him using magic with my own eyes, Arthur, as did you."

"Yes, but…"

"All sorcerers are traitors to the crown; it is the law of Camelot. You know that Arthur."

"Yes, but Merlin…"

"Then he must die." With that, Uther turned on his heel, and made to sweep out of the room, but Arthur stepped in front of him, and blocked his way.

"No." Slowly, Uther turned to face his only son.

"What did you say to me?" Uther asked, in a voice so casual, he could have been discussing the weather. Arthur, however, was not fooled. He had lived with this man all his life, and knew when Uther was furious; this was one of those times.

"I said no. I won't let you kill him. You say it's the law; in that case, the law is wrong! Merlin has never plotted against the crown, nor would be ever! He has been the closest friend I've ever had- indeed, the only real friend – and I won't lose him!" Arthur stood, right in front of the king now, voice loud and angry, shaking slightly from emotion. He had meant every word. He watched his father's face change into one of… sympathy?

"This is worse than I thought. He really has got to you." Uther said, as slowly and gentlry as he could manage.

"Guards!" Several ran into the room, and bowed low to the king.

"Prince Arthur is not to leave his room until after the prisoner's execution. Do you understand?" They all nodded, and moved outside of them room, all of them trying to look as though they weren't eavesdropping on the king and the prince arguing.

"Father!" Arthur cried, making a move towards the door, but he was pushed back by the guards.

"I pray, Arthur, that you will regain your wits soon. You will thank me for this someday." And with that, he swept from the room, apparently deaf to Arthur's shouts following him down the corridor.


	3. Run With Me

_Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin, however much I might wish I did._

_A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so short. Hopefully, the next one will be longer :D_

The False Queen

Chapter 3 – The Escape

Gaius hurried down the corridors, searching for Merlin. It was unlike him to not be back by sunset and unheard of for Merlin to miss his dinner. There was a whole list of places Merlin could be, but Gaius decided to check the stocks first. Uther had a habit of putting Arthur's unruly manservant in them, and it wouldn't be the first time the punishment had carried over into the night.

Water ran its course down the grimy wall silently, a mini river weaving its way towards its own personal sea – namely, the puddle in the corner of the cell that Merlin was imprisoned in. Camelot's dungeons were well known for being the most humane in Albion, but you wouldn't know it from the room Merlin was sat in. Merlin guessed that King Uther had put him in it for one reason; extra punishment. As if losing his life wasn't enough. Merlin felt a single tear run down his cheek at the prospect. Everything had gone wrong so quickly, it was hard to believe. Around Merlin's wrists, the manacles chaffed, drawing a trickle of blood that fell onto the stone floor. In his mind, Merlin located the flow of magic that constantly pulsed inside of his consciousness. Staring intently, he focused on the manacles clamped around his wrists.

"Datganiad fi nawr." He whispered. Nothing happened. Disturbed, Merlin sat up a little straighter, and tried again

"Datganiad fi nawr." Again, nothing happened.

With growing desperation, Merlin gave up trying to keep quiet. He stood up abruptly, and yelled at the top of his voice: "Datganiad fi nawr!" Two guards ran around the corner, and stared at Merlin. But instead of punishing or hitting him, like Merlin had been expecting, they laughed.

"Magic not working, boy?" One of them taunted, lips curving into an ugly sneer. Merlin didn't answer them, but sank back down to the floor, confused and upset. The guards found this even funnier, and they continued to laugh while Merlin silently curled up into a ball, and attempted to get some sleep. Maybe, if he was lucky, he would wake up and all of this would be a dream.

Arthur pounded the wooden door with his fists, ignoring the stinging pain, even when he could feel bruises forming on his hands.

"Let me out!" He yelled desperately, for the hundredth time. Finally exhausted, he collapsed to the floor, head held in his hands. He didn't know what else to do. There were guards stationed at both of his doors. It was getting closer and closer to morning; out of the window Arthur could see the moon, but it would soon fall beyond the horizon, to make way for the sun.

"The window…." Arthur muttered to himself. Excitement coursed through him, as he threw himself towards his window. As quietly as possible, he opened it, and glanced downwards; there wasn't a soul in sight. Closing the window softly, Arthur quickly ransacked his chamber, looking for clothes, fabrics, anything that he could use. He glanced out of the window again; by the moon, he could tell he was going to have to hurry.

Worriedly, Arthur checked the make-shift rope he had manufactured himself mere minutes ago. To his expert eye, every knot seemed tight and strong, but there was only really one way to test them. Gritting his teeth, Arthur tied the end of the rope to the heaviest thing in his room – his bed – and set about climbing down the wall. Outside, it was freezing cold. A cruel wind lashed, and rain poured down.

"Typical." Arthur muttered to himself, as he was thrown off of balance again and again by the wind. By the time he reached the bottom, he was soaked through to the skin and freezing cold. But no less determined.


	4. Chained

The False Queen

Chapter 4 - Chained

In the castle of Camelot, not a soul could be seen as Arthur ran through the corridors. His footsteps seemed far too loud to his own ears, but he carried on regardless. By some miracle, Arthur didn't run into anyone until he neared the dungeons. Slightly out of breath, he slowed down, and looked around for the guards. Sure enough, there were two of them, standing proud and upright, blocking Arthur's path. Arthur bit his lip, unsure how to distract them. It would be too much to hope that they would perhaps not know that Arthur was meant to be locked in his room. Slowly, a plan came to him.

Ok, so it probably wasn't the best plan in the world. And Arthur was pretty sure that it wouldn't work. But it was worth a try, he reasoned. In his hand, Arthur held a small rock that he had found on the corridor floor. He weighed it in his hand, before he pulled back his shoulder and lobbed it as hard as he could in the opposite direction that he wanted to go. The guards looked at each other, and for one gut wrenching moment, Arthur thought that his plan had failed. Surely, they wouldn't be stupid enough to fall for that. But, amazing, the guards ran off down the corridor without a backward glance. Arthur deftly slipped past where the guards had been stood, and hurried down the stairs.

Arthur knew the dungeons well; his father had often brought him down here as a child, to be "taught a lesson." Arthur inwardly shuddered at the memory. Shaking his head to clear it, he hurried onwards, glancing inside every cell. He prayed that he would find Merlin soon. There were few prisoners; Uther didn't tend to keep people alive for very long. Arthur looked into the next cell, expecting it to be empty. It wasn't. Sitting on the dirty and wet floor was a young woman with a baby clutched to her breast. Her long hair looked to Arthur like it would be naturally red, but underneath the layer of grease and dirt, it was hard to tell. The girl raised her haunted eyes to meet Arthur's, and they widened.

"Help me. Please." She whispered, reaching one impossibly skinny hand out to the prince. Tears shone in her eyes, and she clutched at the baby even tighter.

"I… I will. I'll come back for you." Arthur replied, doing his best to keep his voice low and even.

"But I have to find someone first," he carried on, trying to avert his eyes from the bruises coloured purple and yellow over her skin. Whatever the girl had done must have been serious, but Arthur couldn't understand what had warranted such violence towards her.

"Don't go," she whispered.

"I have to," Arthur said, and walked off before he changed his mind and freed her then and there. He would go back for her, but he had to find Merlin.

Cell after cell rushed past, and still there was no sight of Merlin. Arthur slowed to a halt, breathing heavily. There was only one set of cells left, and they were the worst in the whole castle. Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Arthur peeked around the wall. And gasped.

Merlin was chained to the wall like a common criminal, blood congealing on his arms and all over his clothes. His eyes were puffy, as though he had been crying, and his eyes were closed. For a second, Arthur feared for the worst, until he noticed Merlin's chest hitching shallowly.

"Merlin?" Arthur whispered, fighting back tears as he took in Merlin's disbelieving stare. Merlin opened his mouth as if to speak, but the only sound that came out was a choked sob.

"You don't have to say anything. We're going to run away together. I promise. I'll get you out," Arthur promised, as he turned his attention to Merlin's manacles. He didn't notice the shadow that crossed Merlin's face at his words, or the silence that followed it.

The chains seemed to take more time that Arthur had anticipated. By the time he had Merlin free; a pale sunlight was just beginning to stream in through the thin window of the cell.

"Come on," Arthur said softly to Merlin, attempting to keep his voice low. If the guards came then, just when they were about to escape… well, it would be disastrous.

"There's just one thing we have to do first," he continued, grabbing Merlin's hand and pulling him down the corridors of the dungeons. At last, they came to the cell that had the young woman Arthur had met earlier in it.

"Merlin, can you get her out. It'll save time." Merlin quickly uttered the spell that would release the girl, and her shackles fell off effortlessly.

"Arthur, I need to talk to you," Merlin said quietly, turning to Arthur.

"We really haven't got time, Merlin. Can't it wait?"

"No." Merlin's voice was barely a whisper.

"I'll wait out there," the girl gestured, ignoring the tiny cough that her baby gave. She slowly walked out of the cell, limping slightly. Arthur watched her go, and then turned back to Merlin.

"Yes?" he asked, trying the read the warlock's expression, which was blank.

"What you said earlier… about running away…." Merlin started, his voice only trembling slightly.

"Yes?" Arthur said again, eyes lighting up.

"You're not coming with me." And before Arthur had time to react, Merlin used his magic to knock the Prince unconscious. He caught him just before he hit the floor, and lowered him gently the rest of the way.

"I'm sorry," Merlin whispered to Arthur, kissing him softly on the forehead. Carefully, he stepped over Arthur, took one last look at the man he loved, grabbed the hand of a girl he had only just met, and ran.


	5. Do you trust me?

A/N: Well, this chapter has taken a ridiculous amount of time to write, and for that, I am very sorry. I think it's been something like two months, which is bad, even for me.

Disclaimer: Merlin isn't mine. If it was, Merlin and Arthur would be making out every episode *Imagines it* Hmm, maybe it's a good thing I don't own Merlin :P

The False Queen

Chapter 5 – Do you trust me?

Merlin cursed as soon as he got outside; the sun was well on it's way to being fully up, and as soon as that happened, Camelot would be swarming with people. He had to get out soon, before the guards noticed that he and the girl were missing.

"Have you got a plan?" the girl asked him, ripping a shred off her skirt and tying it around her neck in a loose sling.

"No, I was planning on making it up as we go along," Merlin confided, feeling somewhat guilty that he didn't know what to do.

"Great, that's just great," she whispered back sarcastically.

"C'mon," Merlin said, holding out his hand. The girl eyed him suspiciously, and did not take it.

"Suit yourself," Merlin muttered to himself, and started walking, taking care to keep to the edges of the courtyard. The girl followed him, never taking her eyes off him.

Just as Merlin thought that they were making good progress in this matter, the baby started to cry. The girl quickly clamped her hand over his face, but it was too late; one of the guards had heard.

"Who's there? Show yourself!" the guard called, and both Merlin and the girl froze in a blind terror. Merlin pulled her closer to the wall, and whispered to her: "Do you trust me?" Silently, she reluctantly nodded her head.

"Good," Merlin whispered, as he took her baby and placed it in her sling. Then, he pulled her against him, and kissed her, placing her hands on his face to disguise his appearance. He did the same to his hands, so that the both of them looked like lovers out early in the morning, and not criminals on the run. At first, the girl struggled, but as she realized what Merlin was doing, she responded with vigour, further bolstering the illusion.

"Well, who's there?" the guard called as he rounded the corner. He was greeted by the image of two young people locked together passionately. Chuckling to himself, he went back on watch without a backward glance. As soon as Merlin was sure they were gone, he pulled away from the girl, and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry about that," he said, blushing.

"Don't worry about it." She replied, smiling back at him, and stroking the hair of the baby.

Merlin had decided that they needed horses to get away fast enough. And that, the girl insisted, was a job for her. Merlin stood outside the stables, awkwardly holding the baby as she sauntered in, swinging her hips as far as she possibly could. Merlin knew that there would only be one stable hand at this time in the morning. He was right.

James loved spending time with the horses. He loved the way their hair was soft and silky, the way their eyes were bright and alert, and the way they snorted when he groomed the right way. Today, he was working on Prince Arthur's hunter. Normally, that would be the job of the prince's manservant, but Merlin hadn't turned up to do it, so the job had fallen to James. Lucy, a kitchen maid he was friends with, had told him that Merlin had been arrested for sorcery, but James didn't believe that for one moment. It seemed ridiculous to him. Smiling to himself, he resumed his work, whispering to the horse as he went. He was so absorbed with his work that he didn't hear someone enter the stables.

"Looks like you've got a great touch there," James jerked his head up at the feminine voice he heard close to him. He turned quickly, staring at the grubby woman standing behind him.

"I…umm…you shouldn't be in here."

"Why?" she replied flirtatiously, moving closer to him.

"Because…" James didn't get a chance to finish, as the girl kissed him. Using the mental link that the intimacy created, she whispered "Peidiwch â lladd ond weddill." Instantly, James fell to the floor. The girl grabbed two horses, and led them outside. She took her baby from Merlin, and mounted. Merlin just stood, looking at her in shock.

"But… you killed him," he stuttered.

"No, I didn't. He is deeply asleep. He'll wake up tomorrow with a headache, but no worse than that." Merlin did not look convinced.

"Emrys, trust me." At the sound of his other name, Merlin stirred himself, mounted his horse, and rode out of Camelot, ignoring the shocked shouts of the guards that saw them.

******

When Arthur woke up, he was tucked up safely in his own bed. Sunlight poured in from an open window, and birds could be heard singing happily. Groaning slightly, Arthur sat up and put a hand to his head. He had a pounding headache and a slight pain behind his eyes.

"My lord?" Arthur turned his head sharply, but the voice that spoke was female. Sitting next to him, cloth and bowl of water in hand, was Morganna's maidservant Gwen.

******

Sir Leon dug his heels into the flanks of his horse, urging it to go faster, jumping over the many obstacles in his way. He knew he would have to stop soon, and rest the horses, but there was nothing he would like to do less. But underneath him, he could feel his horse panting and shaking.

"Stop," he called, halting the five other knights that rode with him. Several of them cursed under their breath as they dismounted, thighs sore from being in the saddle too long. Sir Gawain slid off his horse gracefully, tied the reins to a nearby tree, and approached Sir Leon.

"We're not going to find them, Leon. You know that. I know that. The other knights know that. We've been riding non stop for hours now. I think we should just admit defeat and turn back to Camelot." At his words, Leon jerked his head up, eyes wild and unseeing.

"We can't do that," he said, his voice flat. "We have to find Merlin and the girl."

Ten minutes later, the knights mounted their steeds and set off again, in search of the sorcerer Merlin.


	6. He's gone now

A/N: I haven't posted in such a long time - I'm so sorry! Still, hopefuly I'll have more time to write over the summer holidays :)

The False Queen

Chapter 6 – He's gone now

Droplets of water dripped their way lazily down the gentle curve of Merlin's back as he bathed in the gorgeous azure lake that he and the girl had found. They'd both agreed that they had been running for long enough, and that it was time for a break. Braelyn – for that was her name – was tending to the baby in the trees surrounding the lake, which left Merlin time to cool off. And to grieve. Because in spite of the danger he was still in, despite the fact that he had allied himself with someone as deeply suspect as Braelyn, all he could think about was Arthur. All he could think of was the way Arthur grinned when he was teasing Merlin. The way Arthur would come in from training, covered in sweat and throwing off his armour for Merlin to collect. And not least of all, the feeling of Arthur's lips moving against his own, even if it was only for a brief time. Merlin threw his head back slightly, and moaned in longing. He closed his eyes, and forced himself to concentrate on washing his long, lanky limbs. Braelyn and he weren't safe yet, and they would need to be constantly alert in order to survive.

* * *

"Guinevere? What are you doing here?" Arthur asked, attempting to sit up but feeling a sharp pain go through his head, forcing him to fall back onto his sheets. Gwen just smiled at him, and continued to mop at his forehead.

"It's ok, sire. I'm here to nurse you back to health." Gwen replied, her voice soft and cooing, like a dove's would be. It sounded wrong to Arthur's ringing ears; too high and definitely too feminine.

"Where's Merlin?" Arthur said, doing his best to keep his voice steady in spite of his rising panic. Because what if he had been too late? What if Merlin had been too slow or clumsy to get away, and Uther had caught him, and… Arthur struggled up again, this time ignoring the pain. Gwen frowned at him, and put her hands soothingly on his leg. The heat of her touch felt so wrong to Arthur that he jerked away.

"It doesn't matter." She started, before the prince cut her off.

"Where is Merlin?" He roared, throwing back the blankets and attempting to swing his legs of the side of his bed. Before he could stand though, several guards ran into the room, drawn in by the sound of their prince's shouts. Behind them, Uther strode in.

"Leave us," He commanded the guards and Gwen. They all hurried to do his bidding, closing the door rapidly behind them. Gwen stole a quick, lustful glance at Arthur just as the door shut.

"Arthur, how are you feeling?" Uther asked, in a voice that could only be described as caring. Arthur furrowed his brow, confused. He couldn't remember the last time he had heard Uther use a voice like that. Not when Arthur had broken his arm as a young boy, or when the king had ordered Arthur's first horse to be killed, because he had outgrown it. It made no sense.

"Where is Merlin?" He repeated, needing to know the answer so strongly it was like a physical ache deep in his chest. Although Arthur didn't notice it, something tightened in Uther's eyes as he said it, and he moved what he assumed to be a comforting hand onto his son's shoulder.

"Arthur, look at me. That... boy... is gone, and he won't be coming back. I don't know what he did to you, or what he said, but he can't hurt you know. You're safe." Arthur didn't respond at first, he just twisted away from his father's touch. Uther let him go, secretly pleased at the loss of contact. Contact made you weak, and Uther hated weakness.

"No..." Arthur whispered slowly.

"Speak up, son." Uther commanded, returning to his usual bossy self.

"I said no. He wasn't going to hurt me. He loves me…" Uther sighed then.

"Sir Leon is looking for the boy now. I only hope he finds him in time to reverse this horrific curse he has placed over you." And with that, Uther swept out of the room, leaving Arthur with nothing to do but think over what he had said.

* * *

Two hours later, Sir Leon had to concede defeat. In spite of his best efforts, Merlin and the girl had slipped through his grasp. Reluctantly, he slowed his horse down to a gentle walk, feeling the abused animal pant and gasp for air between his legs.

"Turn back," he shouted over his shoulder to the other knights, spurring his horse forward again to take the lead back to Camelot.

* * *

_(Flashback)_

Warm firelight danced over the girl's cheekbones, throwing her face into sharp shadow. She stood next to a tall man of undistinguishable age, as his face was obscured almost completely by a large black hood.

"Dewch â ni rhyddid." The young woman muttered, swirling her hands through the air as she did so. The fire hissed and spat, until an image appeared in it. Eagerly, the young woman leaned forwards, but the man held her back slightly.

"Patience, Braelyn," he warned. Bowing her head in submission, she nevertheless took a step forwards and stared into the fire. The face looking back at her did not seem familiar, and she turned back to her mentor for help.

"Who is it, master?"

"It is Emrys." He replied, watching as the girl's face lit up.

"When can I find him, master?" Despite her attempt at schooling her voice, her excitement came through in every syllable she spoke.

"In time, child." His eyes brushed over her slim build, looking her over as a horse trader would when buying a new and untested animal. He had spent eight years training this girl in magic and sorcery, and although it was not in her blood, she had proved to be very good. She was determined, ruthless and powerful. He smiled softly, and her eyes flashed golden in happiness at a gesture that he rarely used.

"You haven't been branded yet, have you?" He asked, drawing out his words and peering at her intensely.

"No, master."

"Do you wish to be?" He asked.

"Yes." She whispered, scareley daring to believe her luck. After all these years, she had never thought she would be granted the honour of branding. Now, it looked like her cherished dream was going to be coming true.


	7. A Letter Sent

The False Queen

Chapter 7 – A Sent Letter

Sunlight poured in from the window of Arthur's chambers as he paced back and forth. It had been two days since his father had come to visit him, and nothing much had happened for the prince since then. Sir Leon had returned to the castle, tried to explain to Uther that the situation was impossible, that the boy was gone, before the king sent him back out to hunt down Merlin. Arthur's life had consisted of nothing but three meals a day brought in by Guinevere. She seemed to be everywhere, always in his room for some reason or other. Arthur couldn't understand it, so he just let it pass.

* * *

Gwen hummed to herself as she walked down he corridors. It was a beautiful sunny day, spoiled only by the prospect of having to serve Morganna. Gwen sighed slightly. Yes, Merlin was out of the way, but she was still no closer to ensnaring Arthur than she had before.

"Patience," she whispered to herself. Her time would come; she could just feel it.

* * *

"I just can't believe it," Morganna said for the third time, biting her lip and shaking her head lightly. Gwen stood behind her, and brushed out her mistresses' long ebony hair. Sure that Morganna couldn't see, Gwen rolled her eyes.

"I mean, Merlin, a sorcerer." She continued "You would never have guessed it."

"They good at hiding, my lady." Gwen replied, trying to keep the irritation out of her voice.

"Yes, of course." Morganna said, lowering her eyes once more. Silence fell, and Gwen took the chance to think through her next idea on how to get Arthur.

* * *

Uther sat in his chambers, head in hands. Arthur refused to let go of the ridiculous notion that the sorcerer meant him no harm. Whatever dark magic that boy had used on his son, it showed no sign of waning, until Merlin was found. But Uther was not a fool; he had heard what Sir Leon had to say, and he knew that it was unlikely they would ever find the boy.

"Damn it!" He yelled, standing up in one fluid motion and hitting the wall angrily. Pain blossomed in his knuckles, and he raised it to his lips for comfort. If only there was some way to get Arthur to abandon all thoughts of the sorcerer. And slowly, as the pain ebbed away, Uther had an idea. Sitting back down again, he pulled out his quill and wrote a short letter. Smiling grimly to himself, he called one of his knights to the room.

"Gawain, I need you to send this to Leon. Make sure he gets it." Sir Gawain bowed and left the room, to Uther's deep satisfaction. Soon, his plan would be in motion, and Arthur would forget all about Merlin.

* * *

Merlin and Braelyn were on the move again, heading away from Camelot and towards the outlying villages. In spite of the baby they carried, they were making good progress through the woods which meant they had plenty of time to rest and hunt. Merlin used his magic to snare two rabbits, which he and Braelyn ate hungrily. He didn't notice Braelyn staring at him while he lit the fire with his eyes, or when he skinned and deboned the animals in the same manner.

"So, Emrys…" Braelyn started that night whilst they were eating. There had been very little conversation between the two of them, and what little they had shared had been ideas about how to evade the knights and stay alive. Merlin's head jerked up at her voice, and he stared at her as he waited for her to continue.

"I was wondering why you ran away," She said, watching his face carefully for a reaction. Minutes passed, and she almost thought he wasn't going to answer her. But he did.

"The king found out I have magic. You know how that's treated in Camelot." She nodded slowly. Yes, she did know. And although Emrys didn't know it, he was going to help end Uther's reign of terror.

"What about you? Why were you in the castle dungeons?" Merlin asked, looking over at his companion. Now that she had washed in the lake and eaten some food, she looked better. Her hair was auburn, and fell down to her waist. Her eyes were a cat-like green, and slanting. Her arms were still covered in bruises, but they were starting to fade now.

"Me?" Braelyn considered lying to him, but decided it would be better to tell the truth. After all, she needed Emrys to trust her.

"I was caught performing magic." Braelyn began, choosing her words with care. There were certain things that Emrys didn't need to know yet.

"And I was seen by a knight. He brought me to Camelot, and once the king learned of the spell I was using… well, I was lucky not to have been executed on the spot." Merlin leaned forward subconsciously; curiosity peaked to unbearable levels.

"What spell was it?" Merlin asked in a hushed voice, almost scared of what she would say. Braelyn studied him carefully for a few moments, and then answered.

"A killing spell."


	8. Fairy Folk Hear All

A/N: I can't believe it has been so long since I last wrote this. I got into a new fandom, which took over all my muses for a while, so that is my (feeble) exscuse. Enjoy!

The False Queen

Chapter Eight – Fairy Folk Hear All

"A killing spell?" Merlin repeated, feeling more than a little bit repulsed. Almost unconsciously, he edged away from the girl next to him and drew his clothes closer around him as though they would protect him from her. Braelyn dropped her head into her hands, looking contrite, and when she raised it again, Merlin could see tears glinting in the corners of her eyes.

"I had no choice," she whispered, he voice suddenly rough and broken. In spite of himself, Merlin felt a tug somewhere deep in his chest, urging him to reach out and comfort her. Struggling with doing what his instincts were telling him, and what he knew he should do, Merlin compromised by shifting slightly closer to the now openly sobbing girl.

"They were threatening Rylan! I had to look after him. If anything happened… I just… I don't know what I would do!" Braelyn cried, shaking as sobs wracked her fragile body. Finally giving in, Merlin moved right back next to her, and slipped an arm around her shoulders in comfort.

"That's your baby, right? Rylan?" He asked gently, stroking her hair soothingly just like he used to do for Arthur after a long tournament. Merlin flinched at the thought of the prince, but pushed it aside as he felt Braelyn nod.

"I didn't want to…" She choked out, but Merlin just shushed her.

"Hey, it's alright." He pulled her close to his chest and hugged her until her breathing slowed and her heart rate decelerated. Until her heaving sobs quieted into soft sniffles and a few tears splashing down onto his shoulder. Unseen by him, Braelyn smiled.

* * *

By the time that the messenger caught up with Leon and the other knights, dusk was beginning to fall, and the horses were already tied up for the night. Owls could be heard softly hooting in the surrounding thick trees, and unseen by the men, fairy folk were just starting to emerge from their cities. They danced through the air, swooping down one by one to hear the mortal men speak, for there was much fun in observing the crazy, hectical lives of humans. In unison, they giggled as the messenger literally threw himself from his horse as it came to a stop.

"I've got an urgent letter for Sir Leon…" The man said breathlessly, eyes roaming over the cluster of knights until they landed on Leon.

"Yes?" Leon asked, stepping forward and holding out his hand for the letter. Bowing slightly, he stepped back and watched as Leon scanned the letter, eyes opening comically every now and then. When he had read it twice through, he turned to his men.

"I need you all to listen very carefully to me. This letter is from the king, and it has very strict instructions contained within it. The king writes that if any of these instructions are not met, then the man that breaks them shall die. We're going to return to Camelot in the morning. And we're going to go into the throne room, and tell King Uther and Prince Arthur that the enchanter Merlin was killed. Every man here is going to swear that we saw his dead body, ravaged by magical creatures. Understood?" Leon asked, looking around the circle of knights he considered to be friends, allies, and now fellow conspirators. All of them nodded slowly, except for a particularly young and handsome one called Thomas.

"But… we didn't see anything…" He stammered, blushing easily.

"Yes we did." Another knight broke in, turning to the younger man menacingly.

"But…"

"We saw it. It happened." Thomas didn't try to argue anymore, just nodded and stepped backwards.

"Excellent. And now mean, I suggest we get some rest. For it'll be a long hard ride tomorrow to get home to Camelot." Leon smiled as the knights dispersed. Only the fairy folk noticed Thomas's look of unease as he was sent into the forest to gather firewood, and they were in no position to say anything.

* * *

_(Flashback)_

"You're to take Mendric's child with you," The master intoned as his student put the last of her things into her horses saddlebag. At his words, she turned around angrily, temporarily morphing into a cat and then back again in her fury.

"Control yourself," The master hissed coldly, and the girl hung her head in shame as she realised her elementary mistake of letting her emotions affect her magic.

"I'm sorry, master." Braelyn whispered, contrite. She waited for him to accept her apology or punish her, but he did neither. Surprised, she chanced a look up into his face. As always, his heavy hood kept most of his face in shadow, but she could make out his lip, perfectly straight and betraying nothing.

"Master, if I might…" Braelyn began, cowering in her fear of saying the wrong thing. Warm relief made her weak at the knees when he inclined his head a fraction of the inch. To a casual observer, this gesture might have meant nothing. But Braelyn had been training with this man since she was a child. She knew his body, his gestures better than she even knew her own. Emboldened, she continued.

"Why must I take the child? It is not mine, and it will only slow me down." She looked down at the ground, scarcely daring to breathe as she waited for her master's response.

"Emrys is not yet hardened to the world as to suspect a young mother. And his prince is filled with ridiculous ideas of chivalry. Rylan will keep you above suspicion and safe. Besides," he continued, inwardly feeling a hint of amusement as Braelyn's head snapped up, "You need someone to slow you down. You are a talented sorceress, Braelyn. But you reach too far, too fast. Emrys will help us achieve our goal, but it is a process that cannot be rushed. You need to understand that, and you will not fail me. Just because you are branded now, it does not make you one of the elite. Remember that." She nodded, and swung onto her horse, accepting the baby from Mendric without a word of contestation.

"I will not fail you, Master." She said, spurring the horse forwards out of the camp and towards Camelot.


	9. Truth and Lies

The False Queen

Chapter Nine – Truth and Lies

Arthur was on the training field when Leon and the knights returned home. His sword slashed through the air, parrying his opponent's strikes and returning fierce ones of his own. The flat side of his sword hit the breastplate of the other knight, and the man stumbled backwards, winded. Normally, Arthur would raise his sword at this point, and allow the man to get his breath back and continue. But today, Arthur wasn't in such a generous mood. Instead, he drove forward once again, knocking the man to the ground and pointing the sharp tip of his weapon to the man's throat.

"Give in?" Arthur almost growled, wanting nothing more than to be finished with this knight and move on to the next.

"I… yes." Shaking, the man pulled himself to his feet, and then, bowing once, literally ran towards the other knights, who all looked as scared as he did.

"Who's next?" Arthur yelled, eyes travelling over his band of knights, supposedly the best in the whole of Camelot; Arthur wasn't so sure about the prowess of some of them.

"Who's next?" He called again when they all failed to respond to him. One knight stepped forward nervously, but he was saved from the prince's foul mood by the servant that arrived onto the practise grounds.

"King Uther wishes to see you, sire." He said, bowing low and then backing away in fear at the glare sent his way.

"Alright. You lot," Arthur barked at the knights, "Practise with each other until I get back." Turning on his heel, he strode purposely away from them and towards the tent the knight's sometimes changed in.

* * *

Arthur sighed in frustration as his new manservant struggled with the various buckled and clasps on his armour. At his peak, Merlin had been able to rid him of his armour in less than forty seconds, but this boy… well; it had taken this boy nearly five whole minutes just to wrestle Arthur out of his breastplate.

"You know, I would like to see my father sometime this afternoon," Arthur remarked conversationally, secretly hoping for a quick and witty barb in reply, like Merlin would have thrown at him. Cold disappointment settled in his stomach when the boy just blushed and fumbled instead.

"I…err… sorry… I'm trying…" Arthur just rolled his eyes.

"You could try being a little better at it!" The prince snapped, feeling guilty as soon as he had said it. It wasn't the boy's fault that he could never be as sparky or insolent as Merlin had been. Arthur sighed again.

"What's your name?" He asked more kindly.

"Err… Peter, sire." Arthur just nodded in response, and then left as soon as the boy had _finally _pulled off his chainmail.

"Oh, and Peter?" He called back over his shoulder, "You'll need to clean all of that before tomorrow morning." As soon as he turned the corner, Peter slumped to the floor, eyeing the pile of armour despairingly.

* * *

In the end, it took a whole hour for Arthur to get to the hall to see his father. And the first thing he saw when he entered the hall was Sir Leon and some of the other knights. They all looked exhausted and saddle sore, but otherwise as healthy as when they set off. Arthur crossed the room in three quick strides, and grabbed Leon by the collar of his tunic.

"Where's Merlin?" He growled, shoving his face right up close to the other knight's so that Leon had to lean back slightly.

"Well?" Arthur shouted at the top of his voice, eyes wild. Sir Leon pulled himself out of his prince's grip, and took a step backwards.

"Sire, Merlin is dead." Leon said, bowing his head slightly in shame. If there was one quality Leon prided in himself, it was his honesty and he was lying to the prince of Camelot himself. It felt wrong. At his words, Arthur stumbled back slightly, shivering and panting loudly.

"You're lying." He accused, spinning on his heel to look at the other knights. Some stared back at him boldly, but many looked down at their boots. Arthur marched up to the newest recruit, a young boy called Thomas.

"Is it true? Tell me the truth." Arthur whispered. Behind him, unseen, Leon closed his eyes. If Thomas were to betray them now…

"Yes. I saw him. We all saw him, sire. I'm sorry." Thomas said, voice steady and unshaken. Leon almost breathed a sigh of relief, and Arthur took a step back.

"I see. Excuse me." Arthur muttered, walking slowly to the door of the hall, aware that all eyes were upon him. As soon as he got out of sight, he ran.

* * *

Gwen found him half an hour later, sitting on the battlements of one of the towers. It was freezing cold, and all Arthur was wearing was a thin white tunic. He was shivering when she approached. Gwen sat herself down next to him and silently passed him the blanket she had brought up with her. When he didn't do anything with it, she pulled it around his shoulders.

"He was a good person," Gwen ventured, waiting anxiously to see Arthur's reaction. Arthur turned to face her, blue eyes clear of tears and hard. For a moment, Gwen felt a sense of apprehension, before his lips twisted upwards slightly in a cruel parody of a smile.

"Yeah, he was." Arthur murmured, turning back to stare unseeingly out on the landscape of his country.

"He was a good friend to me," Gwen replied, inwardly smiling at how well things were going. She needed Arthur to trust her, and she felt that this was the best way to do it.

"He was the best friend I've ever had. All my life, I've been surrounded by courtier's sons, who were told to agree with me, do whatever _I _wanted. Or servant's children, who were paid to play with me. I've never had someone stand up to me like he did, to challenge me to be a better prince. I just can't believe… I mean…" Arthur's voice broke slightly, and Gwen took the opportunity to pull him close to her and wrap her arms around him.

"It's alright sire." She whispered, holding him as he finally gave in to the tears building in his eyes. She smiled


	10. Awyren

A/N: I actually know what is going to happen with this story now, although I stil don't know how long it will take to get there.

The False Queen

Chapter Ten – Awyren

"Where are we going?" Merlin asked for the seventh time that morning, as he and Braelyn wound their way down a dirt path cutting through the forest. It was a beautiful morning, with clear skies and birds singing loudly. Every now and again, they would come across a rabbit grazing peacefully, and Merlin would shoot it down with a single look from his sapphire eyes. They'd eaten well, and were on their way to what Braelyn had called "a safe haven." Merlin wasn't so sure, but as he didn't have a better idea, he went along with it anyway.

"Braelyn…" Merlin began, and then broke off with a gasp as they ambled through a thick clump of trees into the most amazing clearing he had ever laid eyes on. Tents stood tall and proud, the green flags attached to them fluttering in the slight breeze. Merlin's eyes widened in shock as he took in the men and women milling about, dressed in tight leather trousers and blouses.

The women were working just the same as the men, and Merlin was shocked to see the casual magic use that went on; women used it to light fires, men used it to erect tents, children enchanted rabbits to tap dance. It was surreal, and utterly brilliant.

Wordlessly, Merlin turned back to his companion.

"What is this?" He whispered in awe, taking in her wide smile. Without answering, she swung from her horse, and immediately a woman ran forward and pulled Rylan from her arms, burying him in her overflowing bosom. Carelessly, Braelyn tossed the reins of her horse to a small boy, and strode over to a man shrouded in a black cloak that stood off to one side.

"Master," Braelyn breathed, bowing her head and shaking slightly with emotion. The man, Merlin noticed, did not show his face at all, merely nodding to the girl's greeting. The man stepped past Braelyn, whose head was still bowed, and walked up to where Merlin was still seated on his horse. Clumsily, Merlin slid off one side, almost losing his balance and knocking over the boy reaching out to take the reins at the same time.

"Emrys," The man greeted him, bowing slightly. Unseen by him, Braelyn gasped at her master's show of deference.

"Where am I?" Merlin asked again, still reeling from the discovery of such a large group of magic users so close to Camelot.

"Come and sit," The master offered, gesturing to a lowly burning fire surrounded by a group already seated by it. Cautiously, Merlin walked over, careful not to expose his back to anyone. They might be magic users, but in Merlin's experience, that didn't always mean they were friends. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Braelyn approaching the group warily, and smiling when she too was allowed to sit. When they were all seated, the master turned to Merlin, his face still hidden in the shadows his hood provided.

"We are the Awyren clan. We are a race much like the druids, but with a different set of hierarchy and belief system. Those you see around you are the elite of our race - individuals who have proved they are the fastest, strongest or most powerful among us, although as legend has it, you are set to wield more magic than all of us put together. We are the only ones branded with the mark of our race, and we are the only ones who fight for the freedom of the magical people. You see, Emrys, since Uther Pendragon came to the throne of Camelot, much suffering has prevailed amongst magical folk, and not just the Awyrens – the druids and fairy folk have also lost much. This is one of the last great reserves of magic in Albion. We are so great not even Uther dares to touch us. But that is not enough. We want Uther Pendragon gone, and magic restored, as is right. Would you join us, Emrys?"

Merlin stared at those in the circle in astonishment. He had never had any idea about the Awyren before that day, and he wasn't sure what to make of them. However, everyone in the circle was staring at him, so he felt compelled to say something.

"What do you use your magic for?" He asked, wondering if any of the Awyren clan had ever been sent to kill Arthur. At the thought of his prince, Merlin's heart clenched painfully, and no amount of trying on his part could get it to stop hurting.

"To help, to heal. Make no mistake, we are lethal in battle, and we do not hold back. But this is a war, Emrys. Sacrifices must be made." This time it was a female who spoke, with raven hair and eagle eyes. Merlin swallowed.

"You do not have to make a decision now, Emrys." A man to his right said, jet black eyes twinkling with what looked like amusement.

"Indeed. You must stay here with Braelyn, but you are free to leave whenever you wish." The woman chipped in again, her own eyes gleaming in a predatory manner.

"Come on, Emrys," Braelyn said from across the circle.

"Fine," Merlin replied, smiling slightly and getting a few answering looks of warmth in return.

"I will show you to a tent you can use," Braelyn said, standing and leading Merlin away from the group. As soon as they were gone, the elite began to talk.

"That's him?"

"Just a boy."

"Maybe, but could you feel the magical energy?"

"It shall be just as foretold."

"I can feel it, in my bones…"

"He may still be loyal…"

"He won't be soon…"

"Enough," The master commanded, getting to his feet and watching as the others scrambled to do so as well.

"It is beginning," He said, allowing himself one tiny, quick smile before he walked away.

* * *

_A silver dagger flies through the air, hitting them firmly in the chest. They stagger, gripping at the handle, the shaft already buried deep within them. Blood begins to pour from the wound, and they gasp in agony. Because it hurts, it burns… and Merlin knows there is nothing he can do.  
_"_No…" He whispers, but it is too late – they are gone._

Merlin woke from his dream, a cold sweat covering his entire body. He shook all over, and panic overtook him.  
"Just a dream," He muttered to himself, "It was just a stupid dream." Rolling over, he tried to fall back to sleep. Sleep, however, evaded him, and he was still awake as the sun began to rise.


	11. Vulnerable

A/N: I'm sorry this chapter is so bitty - I'm working on making them flow better. Also, Morganna isn't going to be evil in this story :)

The False Queen

Chapter Eleven – Vulnerable

The next month passed slowly for Arthur. He worked with the knights, training them far too hard and for too long. He took part in the councils that were held to decide new laws for Camelot. He went hunting, and rode out with Morganna, racing with her over the downs and forests that made up Camelot's borders. He went to the feasts his father threw, and made small talk with the nobles of the court. He smiled rarely, ate little and spent as much time as possible away from his father. Uther had noticed this, and called Arthur into the hall one day.

"It won't do, Arthur. The people need to see their prince as strong and happy."

"Yes, sire," Arthur replied, bowing his head and walking away before Uther could utter another word.

Unexpectedly for him, he started to spend more and more time with Morganna's maid, Gwen. She was the one who had come and found his when he had found out about Merlin's death, and was still the only one he allowed himself to open up to. While the rest of the court still saw a strong prince, Gwen held him while he cried, and tried desperately to heal the huge hole in his heart that his idiotic, clumsy manservant had somehow left.

* * *

"You really cared about him, didn't you?" Gwen asked him one night. It was dark outside, the only light from the flickering candles that lined the room. Gwen and Arthur sat casually in front of the fire, drawing warmth from its flickering flames. They had sat in companionable silence for the better part of two hours, so at her voice, Arthur's head jerked upwards.

"Yeah, I did. But you knew him first, right? You were his friend?" Arthur asked, eyes wide, both of them already growing wet. Gwen had to fight herself not to snap at the pathetic boy-prince she had reduced herself to spending time with. This man was meant to be a champion, and here he was, pining over a servant?

"Do you want me to talk about him?" Gwen asked, smiled pleasantly at the prince while internally rolling her eyes in derision.

"Please," Arthur asked, settling himself back comfortably onto the rug to hear her talk. He needed to hear about Merlin from other people, needed to be reminded that his manservant had been real, had walked the corridors of the castle and lived. Sometimes, the way every else had seemed to forgotten him – apart from Gaius – it was hard to remember the little details.

"Well, when I first met him, he was in the stocks. For standing up to you, and calling you a bully," Gwen began, thinking back to the moment. Merlin had grinned at her like an idiot, all soppy smiles and dopey eyes. He had been covered in rotting vegetables, with potato peel hanging from one ear and tomato insides on his cheeks. And she, like the fool she had been back then, had called him brave, smiled and laughed. Gwen inwardly shuddered just thinking about it.

"And he smiled, and introduced himself. He seemed nice. And we spent time together after that. Like, you know the feast? Not the one where he saved your life, but the one when knight Valiant was in Camelot? He didn't stop staring at you all evening. I had to keep telling him off for being so unsubtle."

That much was true, at least. At first, Merlin had tried to pretend he found the Lady Morganna attractive, but Gwen had seen right through that. He only had eyes for the crown prince of Camelot all evening, in spite of how many other attractive young men there had been. Gwen had known at that moment that Merlin would be a rival, although she never expected the prince to care quite so deeply about his dense manservant.

Arthur sighed slightly, and gave Gwen one of his rare smiles.

"Thanks," He whispered, settling back slightly.

"You're welcome, Arthur," Gwen replied, taking a risk by using the princes first name. When he didn't object, she moved over next to him, and nervously leaned her head on his chest. Much to her surprise, he didn't stop her.

"I know you're hurting, Arthur. And I know, unlike the others, how you feel; because I miss him too. I just… I wish he was back here…" Gwen began to cry softly, smiling against Arthur's chest when his arms automatically came up around her. He held her close to him, wanting to comfort her in the same way that she had comforted him.

"It'll be all right," He murmured, stroking her hair lightly.

"I hope so," Gwen replied.

* * *

"I know what you're doing," The voice hissed, coming out of the darkness like a ghost as soon as Gwen had exited Arthur's chambers. She spun around, arms raised to protect herself, but she could see no one.

"Show yourself," Gwen called, circling slowly, hands still raised. Leisurely, a figure emerged from the shadows, face hidden by a large red hood. Gwen gritted her teeth, and swept a low curtsey.  
"My lady," She said as Morganna came further into view. In one swift movement, Morganna had pushed her back and pinned her silently against the wall.

"How dare you play with him like this? He's vulnerable, and I _will_ expose you for the lying harlot that you are," Morganna hissed, low and steady. Her voice didn't quake once as she shook Gwen to prove her point. Gwen didn't seem troubled by the threat; she just pulled away and began to walk back to her rooms.

"Was that all you wanted, my lady?" She asked sweetly over her shoulder, smiling in triumph when Morganna just glared at her retreating back.

* * *

Back in his rooms, Arthur pulled himself up off the floor, and made his way over to his bed. He fell onto it gratefully; glad that another long and stressful day was over. Stripping off his shirt, he tossed it over the side of the bed onto the floor, and turned onto his side, ready for sleep.

But sleep didn't come easily, as his mind kept on flashing back to Merlin's bright grin. By the time Arthur finally fell asleep, it was nearing midnight and most of the castle was already sleeping.


	12. Torture of the Dark Times

A/N: This chapter has a paragraph in italics, down near the bottom, which might be disturbing. I'm really, really sorry if anyone is upset by it, as it's not my intention to provoke that reaction. I don't think it is that bad, but I felt I should warn anyway.

The False Queen

Chapter Twelve – Torture of the Dark Times

Birds were singing. Merlin lay on his side in the tent he had been assigned, staring at the canvas as it lightened slowly. Soon, it would be time to get up, and he would have his first induction lesson with the master himself. For the past month, Merlin had been left almost entirely alone by the elite and Braelyn, amusing himself by roaming the camp and surrounding woods at his leisure. He had learned a great deal about magic, and how the camp was run, but nothing at all about what the master had spoken of when they first met; namely, the overthrow of Uther Pendragon. Merlin felt his gut twist slightly at the mention of the name _Pendragon,_ and the memories of his prince it brought to the surface. Merlin missed Arthur, all the time. But he had no way of knowing if the prince had felt the same way, due to Braelyn.

"_But why? I could send him a message, or contact him using magic… he needs to know I'm all right!" Merlin yelled angrily, taking a step closer to the girl he had run away with. The need to see Arthur's face, hear his voice and revel in his easy laughter… well, it was becoming more than Merlin could bear._

"_Merlin, you left Arthur in Camelot for a reason, remember? You can't just go smashing back into his life! You left so that he could be a great king, the king Camelot needs. He can't do that if he's constantly in contact with you!" Braelyn yelled back, desperate to make Emrys come round to her way of thinking. He couldn't be allowed any contact with Camelot, not if their plan was to work…_

And Merlin had to admit that she had a point. The whole reason that Arthur wasn't at his side right at that moment was because Merlin had left him in Camelot to rule. Camelot needed him, and Merlin knew that if Arthur realised where he was, he would never become a great king. So Merlin stopped himself from making contact, however much it hurt. Instead, he filled his mind with memories of Arthur, and not all of them necessarily happy ones. He thought back to their first meeting a lot.

"_That was my mistake,"_

And the last time he had seen Arthur, living, breathing, close enough to touch.

"_You don't have to say anything… I promise. I'll get you out,"_

Merlin felt his stomach churn at the thought, and so he turned his attention back to the present.

Outside of the tent, Merlin could hear to sounds of the camp coming to life. He could hear women calling, wood being chopped, fires being started, even the wail of an infant demanding to be fed. It was the same noise he had woken up to for a month, and it was quickly becoming as comforting to Merlin as the sounds of Camelot or Ealdor had ever been. He was beginning to feel at home among the Awyren tribe, with their androgynous dress code and open magic use.

"Emrys?" A female voice called, and Merlin pulled himself out of bed, shrugging into his loose clothes before exiting the tent. As soon as he did so, he ran head-first into Braelyn.

"Sorry," he muttered, flushing at his clumsiness. Braelyn just smiled.

"Come on. The master is waiting." She turned quickly on her heel, weaving between the sorcerers and sorceresses already up and working. Merlin followed after her more slowly, pausing every now and then to apologise to those he knocked into or accidently pushed over. Finally, they made it to a small clearing, where the elite were seated in a circle, as before.

Braelyn gestured Merlin to sit and he did so, trying to ignore how anxious he felt. There was no reason to, but still… Merlin felt uneasy.

"Welcome, Emrys," A woman greeted him, smiling tightly before raking her eyes over his body, as though pricing a pound of meat. Unbidden, Merlin felt his nervousness return, but before he could reply, the master walked into the clearing and took a seat.

"Long ago," He began, and in spite of himself, Merlin leaned forward slightly, "There was a time when Albion was united. Men and women stood as equals, and magic flourished. Those who possessed it were treated well, respected, and they used their immense power to help those who needed it. They treated the ill, and the disabled. They studied the stars of the night and the sun of the day, and created remedies to help everyone, regardless of gender or wealth. They were the good times, and I wish I had been alive to see it."

Here, the master paused, looking around the circle to gauge the reactions he was receiving. Many of the elite were already looking away, bored after hearing the story so many times before. Emrys, however, looked fascinated, as did Braelyn, in spite of the fact the master knew she had heard this history close to a hundred times. She was gazing at him in rapt attention, even as the silence lengthened.

The master cleared his throat, and continued.

"And then came the bad times. Some magic users began to abuse their power, using it to gain more prestige, wealth and control. The druids and the Awyren stood against them, but it was not enough. They were a minority group, a few who were evil… but it was enough. That was when Uther Pendragon came along." The master's face hardened slightly.

"He promised those of us who used their magic for good that he would help us. We joined together with his non-magical armies, and defeated the evil sorcerers. Uther Pendragon took the throne, and we Awyren expected to be left alone, to live our quiet lives in the forest as it has always been, as it should always be. And at first that was the case, we were left in peace. But after a year, the massacre began. Braelyn," He said suddenly, turning to face his apprentice. As always, she blushed with pleasure to see that he had remembered her name.

"Light a fire," He commanded, settling back as she did so.

"Dorri'n rhydd," She whispered, holding her hand over the grass and smiling in satisfaction when flames sprang to life, licking at the edges of her perfect magic circle.

"Emrys, this may be disturbing," She warned, feeling a flash of guilt when the master glared at her. But she had to caution him – she hadn't been, and she'd had nightmares for months.

"Arddangos y arteithio," The master murmured, watching intently as the flames writhed under his guidance, finally turning a brilliant white.

"Look into them, Emrys. Look into them, and see the torture and agony Uther Pendragon has inflicted upon our kind," Curious, Merlin leaned forward slightly, and stared into the flames, unable to look away once he was started.

_Blood, blood, blood. It was everywhere, soaking into her skin, her hands, drenching her hair and dripping down her throat sickeningly…pain, writhing in agony, MAKE IT STOP…screams of terror cutting through the night air… "Don't take him, please, he's just a boy, please"… tears, turning to ice before they have even fallen… children crying in horror…NO, NO, NO… "Daddy, where are they taking us?"… Dungeon, chains, whips, pain all over again… please… fires burning bright against the dark sky…lakes filled with dead bodies… "Not my son, not my son, you can't take my son."…a single girl, eyes staring endlessly, unseeing forevermore…_

"No!" Merlin yelled, wrenching away his gaze. His body was coated in a thin layer of cold sweat, and he found he was shaking violently. The images kept running through his mind, suffocating him… he couldn't breathe…

"Uther did this?" Merlin asked, voice flat, tone hiding the white-hot fury he felt. Braelyn merely nodded. Merlin stood up suddenly, running away from all of them, the so called elite, who had been powerless to stop all those innocent people dying.

For the first time in his life, Merlin let his magic go completely; let it take over his mind, his body, everything that he was. It surrounded him, tugging and pulling at everything until he fell to his knees in the middle of the forest and openly sobbed, for all the pain and loss.

It was like that, an hour later, that Braelyn found him. Softly, she knelt down next to him and raised his face so that he was staring straight into her emerald eyes. His eyes were rimmed with red, his face shiny with shed tears.

"Will you help us?" Braelyn asked with barely bated breath, waiting for Emrys to answer.

"Yes."


	13. Seduction and Secrecy

A/N: I am so sorry for the Arthur/Gwen in this chapter! It's needed, I promise... and hopefully, I can put some more slash in soon.

The False Queen

Chapter Thirteen – Seduction and Secrecy

"Damnit, Arthur, that's an order!" Uther roared, staring in disbelief at his disobedient son. Arthur hardly ever defied him , and when he did there was usually a good reason. In this case, however, Uther was convinced that he knew best. It had been over a month, and Arthur was still moping over his sorcerer manservant. It wasn't healthy, and – more importantly – it wasn't befitting of the Crown Prince of Camelot. So Uther had come up with a solution, one that would sort out Arthur's personal demons, and secure Camelot for years to come. Why couldn't his son see that?

"No, Father. I won't do it. And," Arthur added childishly "You can't make me." Almost as soon as the words were out of his mouth, Arthur regretted them. Uther's face slowly turned from its normal rough pink to a flushed beetroot colour, his eyes bulging out slightly and his mouth became little more than a thin line in his face. Arthur – who had faced the Questing beast without flinching – took a step back. Smiling in a twisted sort of manner, Uther slowly took a step forward, ignoring his son's flinch at their increased proximity.

"You," he said, voice dripping with poison, "will marry, if not the Lady Adelaide, then another. This kingdom needs a strong prince, Arthur, and we need a strong lineage. Remember that." Regally, he swept out of the room, leaving Arthur to bury his face in his hands and groan lowly.

* * *

It was sometime later that Gwen came across him. Arthur was sat on his father's thrown, playing idly with the hem of his tunic and pouting.

"_Ridiculous boy,"_ Gwen scorned, before plastering her mask of gentleness and kindness back in place.

"My lord?" She enquired softly, taking quick, dainty steps up to the throne. There she stood, hands clasped behind her back, chest arched forwards, as she waited for Arthur to respond to her. One thing Gwen was acutely aware of was how hard it often was to get Arthur to connect with her. He was used to hiding his emotions and feelings, to keeping them harshly locked away from a world that would exploit such weakness. Gwen's skill was getting him to talk to her – and then using the information he gave her to burrow deeper into his conscious.

"He wants me to marry," Arthur said dully, still staring at his hem. A flash of panic ripped through Gwen at the words, but she forced herself to keep calm. Bigger obstacles had stood in her path – Merlin, for example – and she wouldn't let this stop her.

"Who?" she asked him, summoning her softest and more caring voice.

"Lady Adelaide," Arthur replied, and Gwen felt a ripple of hope go through her. The Lady Adelaide was little more than a girl – sixteen years old, sweet, attentive – and nothing that Arthur would find desirable. Oh, she was pretty, with a soft, round face and blonde curls; but she had no fire. If Arthur tried to get an opinion out of her, he would find it impossible. And if he tried to get her to raise her voice above the dainty whisper she always used, he would also fail. Sensing this weakness, Gwen cleared her throat.

"She's a nice girl… quiet." She ventured, holding her breath as she waited for the prince's reaction. Arthur looked up at her sharply.

"Yeah…"

Treading softly, Gwen made her way over to where Arthur was sat, and took his hand in her own, gently kissing his knuckles. Arthur's eyes went wide as he realised what she was doing, and he tried to pull away, but Gwen merely leaned over him, kissing his neck lightly.

"Gwen, what are you…" Arthur began to ask, before Gwen's lips descended sweetly on his own. It wasn't a harsh, passionate, breath-stealing kiss like the ones he had shared with Merlin, but it felt… nice. Nice in a way Arthur hadn't felt since he had heard of his manservant's death. Slowly, Gwen pulled away, and leaned over again to kiss and nip at one of Arthur's earlobes.

"Marry me," She whispered, kissing his neck again and then pulling back to stare intently into his eyes.

"I…" Arthur began, but Gwen cut him off again with another kiss.

"Think about it. We're friends. We get on. I like you, and you like me… I know about your feelings for Merlin, and in truth, I'm not in love with you either. But we understand each other, and I'm not a dumb young fool like Lady Adelaide. We could work well together, Arthur Pendragon. Very well indeed." Pressing one last kiss to his cheek, Gwen straightened up and turned to leave.

"Think about it," she threw over one shoulder, enjoying Arthur's look of shock before she walked out of the hall.

* * *

Polishing armour was something Gwen did a lot of, now that Morganna knew of her intentions towards Arthur and had all but thrown her from her chambers. She liked the steady movement of the swords against the stone as she sharpened them, liked the gleam of the helmets and visors. It was comforting and familiar in a way that being a lady's maid was not.

Finishing with one sword, Gwen picked up the next, and immediately recognised it as Arthurs. _Arthur. _Unbidden, her mind flashed back to the morning, and she felt her face colour. Guilt flooded her. She didn't like Arthur, didn't want him… but she also knew that it was her destiny to be his queen.

Ever since she had been a little girl, she had dreamed in her sleep of the court of Camelot… and of Arthur. Even before she had met him, Gwen had dreamed of Arthur Pendragon. She wanted to unite Albion, be a fair and just ruler… most of the time. But not all of the time. If Gwen was honest, sometimes she wanted to marry the prince simply to satisfy her own vanity, to fulfil her greed… and to get her revenge on a life that had condemned her to labour as a servant just to live. Because why was it fair that the Lady Morganna rose three full hours after Gwen, did not one bit of work all day, and then retired hours before Gwen had finished her work? It wasn't fair, and Gwen couldn't stand that.

Gwen was jolted out of her thoughts by a loud knock on the door of the armoury. Standing quickly, she walked over to it and flung it open, expecting to see a page, or a junior knight. Instead, Arthur Pendragon stood there, expression grave. Slowly, he sank to one knee, trying to ignore the ache in his chest that screamed _Merlin, Merlin, MERLIN! _

"Guinevere… will you marry me?" He asked, smiling slightly when Gwen nodded and hugged him tightly, smirking against his chest at her own cunning.

* * *

Miles away , in an illegal magic camp, Merlin sat up in his bed, shook by an invisible shudder that had just passed through his body. What felt like a string of wire tightened at his heart for a few moments, and then relaxed. As soon as it had passed, he ignored it; residue magic was always passing around the camp, and that was all it way. Residue magic. Comforted by the thought, he turned over and tried to sleep again, unaware that the man he loved was preparing to marry someone else.


	14. Mistakes and Heartbreaks

The False Queen

Chapter Fourteen – Mistakes and Heartbreaks

Merlin was busy in the sword fighting area when the messenger came galloping into the camp. Fighting had never been his strongest skill, to say the least. Arthur was always teasing him about it, pushing him over when they sparred. But in the Awyren camp, it was apparently a necessity. So every day, for two hours, Merlin practised his swordsmanship with Braelyn who was – embarrassingly – nearly as good as the knights of Camelot, and certainly better than Merlin thought he would ever be. In spite of that, he spent many hours allowing her to knock him to the ground over and over again, until his back and limbs were covered with large purplish bruises. In the evenings, when they were seated around the fire, stars twinkling overhead, he would heal them, speaking the magic freely and without fear of being caught.

Merlin was drawn from his reflection when a heavy blow landed on his chest, knocking his breath away and forcing him to fall – once again – onto the hard ground. Momentarily dazed, he closed his eyes, seeing the smug face of his training partner loom above him when he finally opened them again. Offering him her hand, Braelyn hauled him to his feet and smirked.

"I win again, then." She said, laughing when Merlin scowled at her.

"I'm never going to get this," Merlin groaned as he stooped to pick up his sword from where it had fallen.

"Oh, that's what I said when I first started out," Braelyn said, effortlessly twirling her weapon in one hand. "I was hopeless. I was this scrawny kid, no muscles, no skills… just like you are now, in fact!" She laughed when Merlin lunged at her, even when he managed to knock her to the ground by accident; one of his flailing limbs hit her as if by magic. Panting slightly, they lay on the grass, staring up at the clear blue sky.

"Braelyn?" Merlin asked as he turned his head to look at her. She had her head tipped back, eyes closed, drinking in the last of the summer sun.

"Hmm?" She replied, smiling slightly.

"How did you come into the Awyren tribe? I mean, you must have a mother and a father… why aren't they here as well?" Braelyn stiffened for a moment, choosing her words with care as she always did around Emrys. In the end, she settled for bluntness.

"Uther killed them. Soldiers came to our village, asked where the magic users were. We didn't stand a chance," A low, bitter laugh escaped her mouth, and Merlin leaned up on one elbow to get a better look at her. She didn't notice, eyes still closed.

"I escaped, I ran. I left my whole family behind in my desperation to get away. The master took me in when I was only a girl – he found me, and taught me all the magic I know. I know he can seem cold, and harsh sometimes… but he's a good man. He wants Uther gone as much as any of us… but maybe not as much as I want revenge."

"Braelyn, I…" Merlin began, saved from answering by a skinny boy running up to them.

"Messenger from Camelot!" He gasped, clutching his side as he flopped down onto the grass. At once, Merlin and Braelyn leaped to their feet, both of them running the short distance back to the main camp. Merlin didn't know what to expect – but he hoped for news of Arthur, if he was well. His chest thumped painfully in the familiar way he was used to, but he pushed it aside.

The master stood in front of the quickly gathering crow, holding a role of stained parchment in his hand, eyes wide with shock. At his expression, Braelyn froze; he never showed emotions. Slowly, he turned to the group, eyes unintentionally seeking out Merlin.

"I have received news from Camelot. It would seem that the Crown Prince has taken a bride." Merlin felt his knees go slightly weak under him, and – seeing this – Braelyn moved a little closer to him, putting a hand on his shoulder to keep him steady. The action did not go unnoticed by the master, who decided to change what he had planned to say.

"It would seem that the couple are very much in love. Uther is apparently furious at the union, as the girl is little more than a servant – but the prince stood up to him, it would seem. My contact tells me they have been seen around Camelot, holding hands, kissing… acting very much like newlyweds should do. Now, about Camelot's defences…"

Slowly, Merlin backed away from the group, trusting that no one would notice his absence when there were such important things to discuss as the defence of Camelot. He walked through the woods, leaves and twigs making almost no noise as he moved through them. As soon as he was out of earshot, he began to run, braches scratching at his face, some of them drawing blood. In his mind, he saw Arthur with a faceless serving girl…holding her, kissing her…touching her… forgetting about him so easily, so quickly when Merlin still ached his prince.

Waves of jealousy and anger coursed through him, leaving him gasping with the sheer agony of it all. In desperation, he sped up. He ran until his lungs burned, and his side ached, but it was still not enough, he felt like it would never be enough. The sky changed colour, from the morning sun to the clear brightness of midday, but he still found that he couldn't stop. Eventually, his legs gave out underneath him and he collapsed to the ground, curling up into a ball and finally letting go the sobs he had been holding inside.

* * *

As soon as the rest of the camp had left, Braelyn hurried after her master, until they were alone together.

"Is it true? What you said about Prince Arthur?" She asked, breathless with excitement. The master turned to her slowly, eyes alight with pleasure.

"Some of it…" He replied teasingly, and Braelyn was amazed to see a smile on his usually expressionless face. Curiosity piqued to almost unbearable levels, she took a step closer.

"Which parts? Master, please…"

"It is true that Prince Arthur has taken a wife, and she is a servant girl. Uther is angry, that much was true. But there have been no reports of kissing, or affection of any kind. Bizarrely, it would seem that this is an arranged marriage." The master broke off, looking at Braelyn quickly.

"Go and find Emrys. He seemed… unhappy when he was told, and the last thing we want is him running back to Camelot." Braelyn smiled, and inclined her head slightly.

"Yes, master. I will go look for him now."

* * *

"Emrys?" Braelyn's voice cut through the dusk that had settled over the forest. Bats were beginning to wake up, and Merlin could hear them swooping above the treetops. Slowly, he sat up and rubbed the evidence of tears from his cheeks. Without uttering a word, Braelyn sat down beside him, and placed an arm around his shoulders.

"All you can do now is train, and get strong. And then we can march to Camelot, we can overthrow Uther… and you can get back to your prince." She stood up and began to walk away, but the sound of Emrys's voice stopped her.

"He's not _my _prince. He's _hers._ I thought… before… I thought that maybe I meant something to him. I can see now that I was wrong. I meant nothing, I was mistaken."

"It's not your fault," Braelyn whispered, genuinely feeling some guilt over the pain Emrys was clearly feeling, but she quickly pushed it aside with thoughts of her parents, butchered on Uther's orders.

"Yes, it is. I thought he loved me, and he didn't." Braelyn didn't know what else to say, so she just walked back over to him and pulled him to his feet. Silently, they made their way back to camp, bats still flying overhead.


	15. Exile

A/N: Shorter chapter than usual! Also, Arthur/Gwen in this chapter... but it is needed, promise! And I feel I should warn for dub-con at the end of the chapter.

The False Queen

Chapter Fifteen – Exile

_It's dark, so dark. It's pressing in on her, choking her… it hurts, burns, tears, rips… and through it all, a face. Dark eyes, dark skin, ebony hair, crown set atop it. A wide mouth and a sensual smile. The woman is smiling now, showing rows of pearly, white teeth. Like a dog, docile right until it attacks. The face belongs to a body, dressed in a gold robe and holding a sceptre. The woman turns to her former mistress, to Morganna, and laughs in a high, clear way._

"_Traitor," Gwen says…_

Morganna woke, covered in a light sheen of sweat and sobbing slightly. She had no maidservant to attend to her, having sent Gwen away several weeks earlier. Slowly, she stood up and made her way over to the large window that overlooked the palace courtyard. Dawn was just beginning to break, and Morganna could see the knights on their patrols. The sight did little to comfort her; the danger she sensed was closer to home, protected on the word of the prince himself. Since the day that Arthur announced his marriage, Morganna had found herself slowly put to one side. Where before she would ride out with him, now Arthur spent his time with his new bride, reading books together, or staying locked in his room doing heaven only knew what.

Slowly, she opened the window and let the frosty morning breeze roll in. It made the hair on her arms stand up, and her whole body shake with cold. In spite of that, she left it open as she made her way over to her cupboard, ready to get dressed.

* * *

Morganna didn't show any respect to Gwen, and it irritated the new princess no end. Whatever their earlier status's in life had been, Gwen was now the princess of Camelot, and would be queen – Morganna should curtsey to her, should allow her to walk into the dining hall before her. Because while Morganna was the king's ward, Gwen was the prince's bride. That morning, Morganna refused to curtsey to her again, and Gwen snapped.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" She asked, her voice soft and silky. The nearby courtiers leaned in close, desperate to hear the princess and the king's ward fight.

"I don't think so," Morganna replied sweetly, and swept away, leaving Gwen humiliated and flustered.

* * *

"There has been a complaint." Uther said, watching the colour rise in his ward's cheeks as her pride was challenged.

"By whom?" Morganna asked, already knowing the answer. Uther merely looked away.

"That does not concern you," Uther replied. Morganna tossed her head, expression incredulous.

"Doesn't concern me? She is nothing but a commoner, raised to greatness through her looks and god only knows what else. I am Morganna le Fay, my father was a great knight and your best friend. My family has centuries of royal blood flowing through its veins, and you expect me to curtsey to Arthur's slut like she is some sort of royalty? Well, I won't!"

"Enough!" Uther roared, taking a step closer to Morganna.

"You will not speak of her that way. She may have been born a commoner, but she will be queen of Camelot. She has done a world of good for Arthur, and helped free him of his ridiculous infatuation with _that boy._"

"But…" Morganna began, stopping once she saw the anger in Uther's eyes.

"I don't want to hear it, Morganna! You're behaviour towards Princess Guinevere has been ungracious, and I will not tolerate it." Trembling slightly with repressed anger, Morganna curtseyed low and swept from the room with a righteous dignity. Outside, Gwen stood waiting.

"You little…" Morganna hissed, pushing Gwen back against the wall in her anger. She pinned Gwen's arms to her side, and leaned in close, breath ghosting across the princesses' face.

"You told Uther, didn't you? Didn't you!" Morganna said, shaking Gwen slightly. Gwen was about to make a quick remark, until she saw the door to the hall beginning to open. Knowing that the king would be inside, Gwen made a snap decision.

"I don't know what you're talking about…" She whimpered, loud enough for the king to hear. And then, quieter, she whispered close to Morganna's ear.

"I'll have such fun being queen. Arthur never stood a chance." Quick as lightning, Morganna slapped Gwen as hard as she could around the face… just as Uther walked out of the hall.

* * *

"I can't believe she hit you," Arthur repeated for the third time that night, as they sat in their chambers. It was already dark outside, and the fire Arthur's new manservant had lit was crackling brightly, filling the room with gorgeous shadows. Gwen had positioned herself in front of it, and she basked like a cat in the warmth.

"It was nothing, really," Gwen replies, looking down as though upset.

"Well, she won't get away with it. Father says Morganna hasn't been herself for weeks now, and Gaius confirms all the nightmares she's been having… it seems she just snapped. But it's ok, I promise. She's being sent to a convent, a few miles away from Camelot. She's going to recover there." Gwen gave a little rehearsed gasp of distress, and Arthur was immediately at her side, holding her hands in her own.

"It's not your fault. Morganna just needs some time away from Court… she'll be back soon enough."

Gwen smiled up at her husband, eyes wide and innocent.

"If you say so…" She whispered, and Arthur smiled.

"I do." He said firmly, before leading Gwen over to the bed. He settled down on his side, as always, and she on hers. Leaning over, Arthur blew out the bedside candle, and settled down to sleep.

"Goodnight," He murmured, curling up like he always did. This time, however, Gwen put a hand on his shoulder, and rolled him over onto his back.

"Gwen, what are you…" He asked, as she quickly straddled him.

"We need a son, Arthur. We both know it. So just close your eyes and think of Merlin."


	16. Sorcery, Archery and Treachery

The False Queen

Chapter Sixteen – Sorcery, Archery and Treachery

Sweat dripped down Merlin's forehead, trickling into his eyes and temporarily blinding him. Angrily, he swiped it away, desperate to keep up with the morning practise. His sword slashed left and right, as he frantically tried to maintain the punishing pace set by the other trainees. It had been six months since news had come to the camp of the prince's marriage (Merlin wouldn't call him by name, he _wouldn't_) and on the advice of Braelyn, Merlin had thrown himself into training.

As well as sword fighting, he was now being trained in archery, hunting, strategy and – more excitingly for Merlin – advanced magic. Every day, he and the other trainees – there were five of them in total – would rise at dawn, and light fires for the rest of the camp. Then, they would be out hunting for three hours, until Merlin's whole body was numb and his sensitive ears felt like they were going to drop off at any moment. Sword practise followed, with Merlin slowly improving until he could nearly keep up with Saymii, the only girl of the group. Often, they would stay after the others had left, practising together until they were both covered in painful bruises that would have taken weeks to heal without the sneaky use of magic.

Strategy was next – which parts of Camelot were weak, which had been invaded before, which guards could be bribed and which would cut you down on the spot. Merlin, having spent years in the castle, knew it better than any of the other trainees and he was often at the forefront of the discussions, explaining exactly why certain plans wouldn't work. Sometimes, they had other magic users come in and teach them about Uther's fighting techniques, and – most importantly – the techniques used by his son.

Merlin always stayed out of those talks, a fact not unnoticed by the others. Braelyn had told them not to mention Arthur by name, or to ask Merlin of their connection, but it didn't help. Every time that Merlin heard him mentioned, he longed to tell the others that they could plot and scheme to overthrow Uther all the wanted – and Merlin was behind them on that plan – they would never defeat his son. Even with the use of magic, Merlin firmly believed that not one of them could match Arthur for skill or stamina.

_Merlin stood in the shadows of an old oak tree, watching as Arthur battled Sir Leon for the third time that morning. Both men had finished official practise an hour ago, and were now fighting purely for enjoyment. The sun above them was hot, so both men had stripped down to their trousers, shirts off. They fought furiously with wooden sticks, slashing at each other with all the ferocity as if they had been using real weapons. Arthur was clearly the more talented, but he was also more tired from drilling the knights all morning, and Leon was beginning to push forwards._

_Dodging a good move from Leon, Arthur twisted backwards, leaning as he ducked under the stick like he was doing some sort of limbo. Merlin's breath caught in his throat at the sight. Arthur's body, suspended for just a moment, taut muscles and lean abs stretching before he was moving again, twisting and bending with ease. Merlin could feel his breath grow quicker, and his mouth go dry as he took in the lean, rippling torso of his prince. He felt he could watch Arthur's rugged beauty for hours, days, weeks…; indeed, he wanted nothing more, until…_

"_Merlin, are you going to stand there all day, or are you actually going to bring me some water like I asked for five minutes ago?" Arthur asked irritably, glaring at his manservant as sweat pouring down and off his body. Leon stood a short way off, talking to his servant and leaning on him as he limped inside. Merlin smiled when he realised that his prince had won again._

"_Oh, I…err… yes." Merlin stammered, bringing over a flask at once. Arthur drunk greedily, eyes closed so that he was unaware of Merlin's eyes glued to his Adam's apple as it bobbed up and down. When he had finished, he poured the remaining water over his head, so that it cascaded magnificently over his golden hair and tanned skin. _

_Droplets chased each other down his cheeks, one stopping just above his lip. Arthur's tongue darted out to catch it and Merlin had to stifle a groan. Merlin realised that Arthur was regarding him with an odd expression on his face, so he lowered his eyes and grabbed the water flask back and backed away._

"_I… uh… I'll go muck out your horse, Arthur," he had stuttered, before turning tail and walking away as fast as he could, head swimming with images of the crown prince._

Archery was another thing that Merlin clearly had no natural talent for, and the other trainees often teased him good-naturedly about his lack of muscle strength. Merlin just smiled, and waited for the magic class where he could outdo them all. Only three of them were natural magic users, and the other two were learning from scratch with Braelyn. The others were taught by one of the elite, a woman with the scary eyes and a fierce, cold smile that rarely came out.

Everyone respected her; no one liked her. But Merlin had to admit, she was a fearsome sorceress. She seemed to know more magic than anyone else he had ever met, and Merlin spent many blissful hours studying with her. At the end of the day, the trainees would often sit around a magical purple fire late into the night, and Merlin found that he enjoyed that part of the day very much.

"So," Katore began one evening, "would anyone like to discuss Emrys's truly _appalling _technique in archery today?" Everyone laughed, and Merlin smiled slightly. He'd been asking since day one for them to call him Merlin, but they had all refused, and he was slowly becoming more accustomed to Emrys. To his right, Ghryian laughed heartily, low in his gut, and smiled.

"It's true, Emrys. I think it may have to do with your upper body strength…"

"Or lack of it!" Saymii yelled, and Merlin blushed slightly. On his other side, Minkan frowned lightly.

"Don't listen to them. They're only jealous because you're the best one at magic here. Physical strength is nothing to strength of the mind," he said, seemingly unaware of the awkward silence that followed his words.

"Right… thanks, Minkan," Merlin muttered, looking self-consciously away. Pointedly, he looked at Ghryian, who laughed again.

"Pity you have neither then, Minkan!" he roared, and the group relaxed once again into easy young laughter. Merlin leaned forwards, enjoying for the first time in his life the freedom of being with a group of young people his own age and status.

When they retired to bed that night, Merlin curled up and slept well, unaware of the next messenger riding into the camp to disrupt his life, again.


	17. Eye of the Storm

The False Queen

Chapter Seventeen – Eye of the Storm

"Princess Guinevere is pregnant. A new heir is coming to Camelot." The master read out from the note, watching Emrys closely, wondering what his reaction would be. He expected tears, anger, explosions of uncontrolled magic… but there was nothing. Nothing at all, but a stoic face that betrayed no hint of what was happening behind those clear blue eyes.  
"Dismissed," The master barked, watching as everyone moved away to go about their daily chores. Discreetly, he crooked one finger and, alert as ever, Braelyn appeared at his side in seconds.

"Yes, master?" she asked, looking around to see that no one was eavesdropping. They weren't.

"Find out what Emrys is thinking. From what you told me, he had a… relationship with the prince, and yet he seems to be taking the news rather well." Nodding once, Braelyn walked away, almost seeming to blend into the morning mist. With her gone, the master retreated into his tent and sighed in defeat.

He had hoped that the Pendragon line would end with Uther's only son; that when they invaded Camelot, they would kill Uther and Arthur, and thus end the tyranny. But now there was to be another heir, and the master knew that many of the Awyren tribe would balk from killing a baby, royal or not. They would want to send it away, let it grow strong… and then it would come back and overthrow magic, and the battle would have to begin again.

Opening a flap at the side of the tent, the master stared out at the young trainees, Emrys at their centre, as the practised sword fighting moves over and over again. Emrys had not been informed of the plan to kill the young Pendragon, and the master thought that would stay in place. Emrys would help them breach the castle, kill the old king, and then he would be knocked unconscious or restrained while the prince was killed.

* * *

"Emrys, can I speak with you for a moment?" Braelyn asked. Merlin turned to her, and she was shocked at how dark his eyes were; inky indigo, not the sky blue she was used to seeing.

"Yes?" he asked, and she noted the changed in his voice; it was deeper, and rougher than it had been. Tentatively, she placed a hand on his shoulder.

"I… are you alright?" she asked, flinching slightly when he turned his full gaze onto her. His eyes smouldered like a dying sun, and for a moment, she could feel herself falling into them, deeper and deeper…

"I'm fine." he replied, shrugging away her tough and moving to pick up his sword. The months of training had been good to him; he could now lift it easily, and he wielded the weapon with some skill. Entranced, Braelyn watched his arm muscles flex as he attacked the wooden target in front of him with a terrifying ferocity.

"I just thought… what with the prince and all…" At once, Merlin changed. Dropping the sword heavily to the ground, he turned harshly to Braelyn. He leaned in close, face just inches away from hers, his breath hitting her lips. She recoiled, expecting him to yell at her, maybe even strike her. Instead, all she heard was his new, low, rough voice again.

"I said I'm fine." he snarled, before walking away into the trees.

* * *

Morganna had decided that living in a convent was the dullest thing she had ever had to endure. Every morning she was woken at the crack of dawn, and forced to wash in freezing cold water, drawn from a stream nearby. She spent the day reading books, walking in the tiny garden and sewing shirts for the nearby villagers. She desperately wanted to escape, but she had no idea where she was. If she escaped, she could well end up dying in the wilderness before she got back to Camelot, and even if she could make it home alive, Uther would just send her back to the convent. Or she could live with the peasants… Morganna shuddered at the thought. She had been raised in the royal nursery, playmate to the prince… there was no way she was leaving her life of luxury behind to become some farmer's wife. And so she stayed shut away in the convent, praying for some sort of miracle.

* * *

Three months later, Arthur paced back and forth outside of the birthing chamber. Inside, he could hear his wife's muffled shouts of pain, and the bustling of the midwives that attended to her. Arthur was praying for a son, an heir to make Camelot safe. He wasn't going to be sentimental, and say that he would love the child if it was a girl; he needed a son. Without an heir, he would have failed Camelot, and failed himself, and failed the whole of the Pendragon line. He needed a son more than anything. He sat down, and counted his fingernails… eight, nine ten… and then again. He looked at the wall, and counted the bricks, staring hard at their rough texture. It was another hour before a plump, kindly looking woman threw open the doors, and ushered the prince inside.

"She's tired, they both are. But they're both well, your highness, and healthy."

Slowly, Arthur moved closer to the bed. Gwen's dark skin was bathed in sweat, her eyes haunted with fatigue and pain. But Arthur barely even paused to look at her. Because lying in her arms, was the most perfect baby he had ever seen.

"Is it...?" he asked, staring with bated breath at Gwen until she wearily smiled.

"Yes. It's a boy," In wonderment, Arthur reached out for his son, uncaring of the blood still on it. He cradled the little boy in his arms, marvelling at his tiny fingernails, and rosebud lips. He skin was dark, like Gwen's, but his eyes were the purest, clearest blue Arthur had ever seen. He chuckled slightly when he saw the child's ears; sticking out and large, like an elephant. The baby lazily opened one eye, and stared up at Arthur. All Arthur could do was stare back in amazement.

"What should we call him?" Gwen asked, and Arthur glanced up at her in surprise. Of course the baby needed a name, he just couldn't think of one.

"Umm…" he looked back down at his son again, lost for words.

"What about Gwydre?" Gwen asked, smiling genuinely. She was happy; the queen of Camelot, with an heir to come after her. Everything she had ever wanted had come to her, and she could barely hide her triumphant grin. Slowly, Arthur nodded.

"I have a son." he whispered in a daze, still staring at the bundle in his arms.

There was a knock at the door, and Arthur gave Gwen a moment to cover herself before he called for whoever it was to come in. A single page entered, looking flustered and upset. Arthur just beamed at him.

"Yes?" he asked, still not taking his eyes from his son.

"Your highness, I have grave news," the page stated, and Arthur looked up to face the man.

* * *

A/N: So yes, I did hurt Merlin further. I seem to have a thing for upsetting him. Also, I promise the Arthur/Gwen thing will end soon. This may even be the last chapter to include it, but I'm not sure yet. So... reviews? :P


	18. Snake, Fox, Dragon

A/N: I'm sorry for the delay in writing this. My new fandom took over my muses, and then I had exams. But here's another chapter!

The False Queen

Chapter Eighteen – Snake, Fox, Dragon

The room was dim when Arthur entered it; gloomy, and only lit by a few candles. Shadows flickered across the stone walls, and Arthur peered forwards into the darkness. In the middle of the room there was a bed, upon which lay king Uther. Uther's eyes were heavy and drooping, his skin deathly white. Even from his position several feet away, Arthur could see the sheen of sweat lying on his skin. Uther's breath came short and ragged, as if each moment he respired, it caused him pain. Arthur slowly began to edge towards the bed, but a pair of hands grabbed at his shoulders and held his back. Arthur turned in anger, but it was only Gaius.

"Sire, your father is gravely ill. Should you get any closer, I could not guarantee your safety." Gaius informed the young prince, and Arthur nodded once before turning back to his father's almost lifeless form.

Conflicting emotions raged deep within his chest, all of them attempting to win out and smother the opposing ones. Uther was the man that he had spent his life trying to impress; a challenge that had wrecked him, emotionally and physically at times. Arthur had spent his childhood trying to be the fastest, bravest, cleverest prince that Camelot had ever seen. But every time he had beaten an opponent at a sword fight, or aced a test his tutor had given him, Uther would only nod, as though he had expected so much better from his one and only son. And Arthur would go back, and try to do better than before.

Uther was the man who had sent Merlin away. _Merlin. _Arthur had buried so much of his manservant in his mind, clouding over every little detail until he could barely remember Merlin's face. But he remembered Merlin's unflinching, idiotic loyalty. And the way when he laughed or smiled, his face would crinkle like an old piece of scrap parchment. Faintly, Arthur could feel the love and longing he still felt for Merlin pounding under his skin like a drum, every beat pulling back fresh memories. Uther had taken Merlin from him.

But Uther had also raised him. Arthur's mother had died in childbirth, and whilst Uther had not been the most loving of parents, he was still Arthur's father. Arthur could feel hot tears pricking the back of his eyelids as he viewed the once proud and strong king, now laid out to die. Wildly, he turned to Gaius and grabbed his arms, shaking him roughly.

"He's going to be ok," Arthur demanded rather than asked, desperation overtaking him at the thought of losing his father: his king. Slowly, Gaius shook his head, and Arthur howled like a wounded animal in his agony. Regardless of Gaius's hand on his shoulder, Arthur approached his father and gently took one of the king's cold hands.

"Arthur, I… I…" Uther began, and Arthur leaned in as close as he could, desperate to hear his father's last words.

"Proud of you," Uther murmured, before his eyes shut at last and he was still.

Later, Arthur would be unable to recall how long he stood there; grasping his father's hand like it was his only remaining link to the world. Heaving sobs wracked his body as tears fell down his cheeks in a never ending river of sorrow. Numbly, he felt Gaius place a hand on his shoulder, and Arthur spun round to face him.

"Why didn't you save him?" he cried in his desperation, the sight of Gaius shaking his head only furthering his anger.

"Answer me!" Arthur roared, temporarily blinded by his hatred, his anger… his grief. Submissively, Gaius bowed his head.

"There was nothing I could do, Arthur," Gaius said gently, as pulled Arthur into a loose hug. He knew it was against protocol, and he could feel Arthur stiffen against him… and then Arthur was sobbing against his chest, and Gaius did his best to comfort the young prince… king.

OoOoO

News of Uther's death reached the Master in mere hours, and he sat in his tent pondering how best to present the information to the group. If Emrys were to discover that Uther was dead, he would undoubtedly march straight back to Camelot and into his prince's arms. Slowly, the Master shook his head. He would need to be more cunning by far if he wished to keep Emrys on his side. He smiled as a plan began to form in his mind.

OoOoO

Merlin was practising magic. He sat in front of a small campfire, twisting the flames into shapes. A rabbit, a cat, a boar… all of them writhed in the flames at his command. He lost himself in the heady ability to say magic words, perform magic, and not be prosecuted for it. In fact, members of the Awyren clan would often stop and watch him perform. So when he felt rather than heard a soft body sit down next to him, he didn't flinch. He smiled when the scent of the perfume Braelyn wore reached him.

"Fancy a match, Emrys?" she asked, and he nodded once.

Fast as lightning, she raised her hands and whispered in the ancient language of magic. From the flames, she created a snake, which wound itself around Merlin's boar, until Merlin also changed his animal. The boar became a lion, which swiped its paw at the snake, but it missed and the snake turned into a fox. The fox leaped at the flame lion, but the lion twisted away and became a dragon. Summoning his magic's strength, Merlin caused the dragon to breathe water, not fire at Braelyn's fox. The flame creature instantly died, leaving the dragon the only animal in the fire. From around the edges of the fire, Merlin could dimly hear applause. He looked up, and saw the appreciative faces of the clan members. Panting, Braelyn smiled at Merlin.

"That…was…advanced…magic," she got out between breaths, and Merlin grinned at her.

He was about to challenge her to a rematch, when the Master strode towards the gathering. Silence fell at once, and Merlin automatically dropped his head in submission. The Master glanced around; sure that everyone was listening before he spoke.

"We have discovered a weakness in Camelot's defence, which we think we can breach. Even now, innocent sorcerers and witches are being butchered by Uther. Now is the time to strike! We march tomorrow at dawn, and I can guarantee that we will win." Uncaring of the stir that his words caused, the Master marched back into his tent without another word. Excitedly, Braelyn turned to Merlin, but stopped when she saw the look on his face.

"Emrys…" she began, but the cold, maniacal glare he gave her was enough to ensure her silence. He walked away from her slowly, shoulders held proud and high. Braelyn shuddered at the storm clouds gathering above her head, threatening their doom.


	19. Invasion

A/N: Well, it's been six months since I last updated this, and to be honest, I doubt anyone is still reading. But I never abandon a fic, and I will keep writing until this is finished.

The False Queen

Chapter Nineteen – Invasion

Darkness blanketed Camelot, enveloping it and making it so that the sentries on guard could see no further than a few metres in front of their faces. Torches flickered around the town, their bright light doing little to penetrate the blackness that surrounded them. From the shadows beneath one of the bell towers, Braelyn waited silently, her chest rising and falling steadily as she waited for the order to attack. Beside her, also concealed by darkness, Merlin stood as still as he could, his eyes roaming over the courtyard in front of him in blurry remembrance. This was his home, the place he had walked a thousand times, ridden with Arthur at his side… at the mere thought of Arthur, Merlin felt his breath catch and his heart clench painfully inside his chest.

Logically, he knew that Arthur was married now, that he had a wife and a child and had probably forgotten all about Merlin and the moments they had shared… but Merlin wanted to believe that wasn't the case. Once Uther was gone and magic was restored, Merlin felt quietly confident that he could get Arthur back, as King of Camelot. Slowly, he allowed a small smile to flit daintily over his lips as he thought back over the good times they had shared, and the ones that were yet to come.

Braelyn's elbow in his side was unexpected, and he gasped in pain a little before glaring at her reproachfully. She seemed not to notice, her attention fixed solely on Katore and Minkan, who were slowly advancing on the guards protecting the gate at the entrance to the palace. They tread carefully, any sound that their footsteps might have made muffled by magic. And then, just before they got to the gates, Minkan raised on arm slowly, his tunic falling back in the pale moonlight to reveal his brand, and uttered a spell under his breath. At once the guards fell to the ground, their bodies still and unmoving even when Katore reached forward a little and shook their shoulder hard. Satisfied, they turned back to where Braelyn and Merlin were hidden, and gave them the thumbs up.

At once, Braelyn lunged forward, Merlin close on her heels as they approached the gates. Merlin closed his eyes slightly and felt for the lock with his mind, finding it and opening the door in a matter of seconds. The heavy door swung open slowly on its rusty hinges, the dull screech it emitted causing all four sorcerers to flinch and hold their breath. But there were no shouts, no echoes of guard's footsteps on the ground, and so slowly, one by one, they relaxed.

"Katore," Braelyn whispered, her hushed voice still sounding too loud in the empty courtyard, "take Minkan and get the outer gates open. We're going to need the other sorcerers as well. Emrys," she continued, "you're with me."

Splitting, Merlin watched for a few moments as the shadowy shapes of his fellow sorcerers disappeared into the blackness, and then he was running. The corridors around him flashed by quickly, remembered memories and sights filling his mind as he ran. Any guards they came across were quickly and quietly knocked out, Merlin using his magic to lower their unconscious forms to the ground silently.

Finally, they came to the locked door that led to Uther's chamber, the heavy wood of it standing like an obtuse barrier that could not be crossed. Slowly, Merlin once more felt out for the lock with his mind, finding it and trying to wrench it open. It wouldn't budge. Merlin tried again, his magic picking up force as the lock continued to elude him.

"Emrys," Braelyn muttered in annoyance, her magic up and body clenched defensively as she kept watch, "hurry up."

Sighing, Merlin screwed his eyes shut and reached out to the door again, this time caressing it gently with his mind, stroking the harsh sides and circular edges until with a click, the door slipped open. With a triumphant smile in Merlin's direction, Braelyn slipped into the room, sword held above her head. Merlin followed her slowly, looking around the room where he had spent many days, scrubbing the king's floor when Arthur had run out of chores for him to do. Moonlight bathed the hard edges of the king's trunks and possessions, but something didn't feel right. The bed was unmade, there was no sleeping king in it, and the dresser behind Merlin was covered with a fine film of dust.

"Braelyn, something doesn't feel right," he hissed, striding over to her and catching her arm. She spun around to meet him, her eyes wild and untamed in a way that he hadn't seen before.

"What? It's fine, Emrys. We're going to find the king and kill him," she whispered back, insane smile already firmly back in place as she backed away from him and made a move towards the bed.

With one swift motion, she flung back the bedcovers and stabbed downwards with her sword, ripping apart the mattress. Merlin stood in horror as she stabbed down again and again, a wild look in her eyes when she finally spun to face him, the tip of her sword just inches from her throat. He could see her chest rising and falling fast as she breathed heavily, her eyes manic and her hair tumbling down from the braid she usually wore it in. Merlin made to take a step backwards, hitting the dresser behind him with a low thud. Slowly she advanced on him, the tip of her sword slipping down to his collarbones and drawing blood as she tugged it across them.

"Where is he?" she asked in a low, dangerous voice, leaning forward so closely she could have bitten Merlin's lips if she'd wanted to.

From behind her, silently watching the proceedings, the two figures in his father's bedroom stabbing at the bed, came a voice.

"Right here."

oOoOo

To be continued...


	20. Kill the King

The False Queen

Chapter Twenty – Kill the King

Braelyn's head snapped up at the voice coming from behind her, her body spinning away from Merlin so fast the tip of her sword grazed his collarbone, drawing blood. He hissed in discomfort, hand going to the wound and feeling the damage carefully. The cut didn't seem too deep, however, and so he healed it quietly before concentrating on Braelyn. She was advancing slowly towards the doorway, sword held in hand, the blade still glistening with Merlin's spilled blood.

"You're the king of Camelot?" she asked slowly, hands trembling with the weight of the sword in her hand but she refused to let got. Her whole body was shaking, years of repressed anger and hatred dying to break free, but she wouldn't let them. Not yet. She had to maintain control, had to be ready to strike, because Uther could not be allowed to live. This was the man who had killed her parents, burned their house to the ground and then sent his soldiers after her. She had been a scared seven year old child, running barefoot through the woods in terror and sobbing with the loss of her family when the Master had found her and saved her from Uther. And now… now she would have her revenge.

From the shadows of the doorway, Braelyn could see the figure nod, and that was all she needed. With an inhumane scream of agony, she launched her body forward the few metres between them, sword dropped and forgotten as she clawed and bit savagely at the figure in front of her. Merlin stood in shock at the fight, hearing and seeing but not really registering. He knew that he should help her, knew that killing Uther was their united aim, but he couldn't move his feet. Because in the pale moonlight, he saw a flash of tousled, golden hair and he knew that Braelyn wasn't fighting Uther.

"Rhyddhau Iddo!" Merlin yelled, his eyes flashing gold as his magic reared forward and pulled Braelyn off of Arthur, her body flying against the dresser in the corner with a dull thud. Merlin saw the anger in her eyes as she struggled to get to her feet, her body in shock from the sudden impact.

"Rhwymwch hi!" he yelled, watching in satisfaction as long, winding ropes sprang from his hands and wound themselves around her body, halting her struggling. Several also wound around her mouth, preventing more than a few noises of shocked outrage from coming out. Satisfied, Merlin turned to the doorway and felt his breath catch at the sight he saw there.

Arthur was standing in the doorway, naked except for a pair of loose trousers that were slackly tied about his waist. His torso and face were lined with deep cuts, some of which were bleeding. Merlin realised, as he looked from Braelyn's blackened fingernails to Arthur, that she had done that. Slowly, Merlin raised his eyes and met Arthur's gaze. Arthur's expression was one of astonishment, his eyes wide and luminous as he stared at his former manservant.

"Arthur, I..." Merlin started, and then stopped. He realised that he had no idea what to say to the prince, to the man that he had loved so deeply for so long. Now that Arthur was in front of him, all he could do was stare. The silence stretched between them for what felt like hours, the only sound Braelyn's muffled screams of indignation from behind Merlin.

"They said you were dead," Arthur said at last, his voice soft and barely audible in the dimly lit room. Merlin sucked in a breath, taking a tentative step forwards toward his prince. The air between them seemed to crackle with energy, the atmosphere tense like a battle ground. Merlin felt like one wrong move would end it all, and he was desperate to not let that happen.

Slowly, he approached and took one of Arthur's hands in his own; holding it up to his chest in spite of Braelyn's muffled shrieks of anger from behind him. Underneath Arthur's hand, Merlin could feel his heart pounding against his chest at the touch, the pulse undeniable proof that he was indeed alive. He watched Arthur's face carefully, noting the slight hitch in the prince's breath, the way his eyes widened when he felt the heartbeat against his hand, strong and hard.

"Not dead," Merlin murmured gently, feeling Arthur's hand clench possessively in the fabric of his shirt at the sound of his voice, "just hiding." For a moment, Merlin truly believed that everything will be alright between them. That he'd pull Arthur into his arms like he'd aching to do and he'd bury his face in Arthur's neck and feel safe and protected again. But then he noticed Arthur backing away slowly, the hand fisted in his shirt falling down to his side. Arthur's eyes were wide and for the first time in months, Merlin saw something new there: anger.

"Just hiding?" Arthur asked quietly, his voice deadly in the silent room, "just hiding? You were just hiding while I was going out of my mind here, thinking you were dead?" Merlin regarded him silently, not knowing how to answer, until Arthur actually threw back his head and laughed. But it's not the warm, friendly laugh that Merlin knew so well, it was Arthur's defensive, mocking laughter that he used when he wanted to protect himself.

"Arthur," Merlin tried to start, but he was cut off by Arthur instantly, the other man narrowing his eyes and placing one hand casually on his hip, where his sword would usually rest.

"So why come back, Merlin? Why are you here?" he asked icily, not seeming to notice Merlin flinch back from the poison in his tone. At Merlin's silent shake of the head, Arthur took a step forward, his footstep falling heavily in the silent room.

"I heard the girl say you were here to kill the king." From behind Merlin, Braelyn struggled even harder, clearly trying to use her magic to untie herself. Merlin's magic was stronger, however, and he held the ropes in place, gagging her and stopping her from attacking Arthur again.

"We… we did come for that reason," Merlin admitted softly, flinching a little when Arthur stepped back, a cold glint in his eyes. Merlin could only watch as his prince crouched down carefully, retrieving Braelyn's fallen sword and eyeing it appraisingly. One hand traced the lethal blade, the slight curve, the solid, heavy handle. And then Arthur got to his feet slowly, the sword in his hand seeming to way nothing as he raised it and took a step towards Merlin.

OoOoO

To be continued...


	21. Sorcerer and Prince

A/N: And there's finally another chapter!

The False Queen

Chapter Twenty One – Sorcerer and King

Time seemed to freeze for Merlin as Arthur advanced on him, the sword held aloft with its lethal blade glinting in the dim light. Arthur's eyes were dead and cold as he took a step closer to Merlin, his movements robotic and ironclad. Merlin knew that he should be saying something, appealing to Arthur and begging for his life. But no words can escape his mouth, the horror of what is about to occur gagging him. Arthur is going to kill him. Arthur is going to kill him. Arthur is going to kill him.

Arthur's footsteps grow louder as he walked closer, his body less than a metre away from Merlin as he raised Braelyn's sword and readied it above Merlin's heart. Behind them, Merlin could hear Braelyn screaming behind her gag, words of pleading, comfort, broken words and sounds that Merlin can barely make out. It doesn't matter now, how could it matter when the fire in Arthur's eyes has reached burning point and Merlin knows he has only seconds to live. Before he closes his eyes, he takes one last look at Arthur's face and then readies himself for the darkness.

But it never comes, seconds pass and Merlin curiously cracks open one eye. Arthur is still where he was, Braelyn's sword now held slack in his hands, his mouth parted and his breathing heavy. Merlin dares to shift a little bit, easing himself up onto his hackles and then his knees. Still, Arthur does not move. Merlin grows bolder, straightening little by little until he is on his feet again and able to wrest the sword from Arthur's slack grip. For a second, Merlin is afraid that Arthur has befallen some strange curse or enchantment, for still his prince does not move. But then, as Merlin is about to go and check Braelyn for any trace of magical residue, any hint that maybe she is to blame for Arthur's current state, the prince reaches out one hand and places it on Merlin's arm.

"Stay," he whispers, his voice no louder than the crickets that sing around the magic camp in the dark. He sounds wrecked, his voice cracking a little at the end of his request and Merlin has no choice but to obey him. They stand there, sorcerer and king, locked only by Arthur's tenuous grip. Merlin isn't sure how long goes past; seconds, minutes, days, it doesn't matter. Time blurs as their eyes finally meet, and Merlin sees Arthur's gaze shift a little.

Moving slowly, as slowly as if he were about to slaughter a wounded deer, Arthur raises his other hand and rests it on the curve of Merlin's jaw, thumb stroking over the rough skin there reverently. Merlin closes his eyes, the touch as familiar to him as if it were his own and yet so strange. With great care, Arthur slides his other hand up to Merlin's shoulder and tugs him close until there is little space between their bodies and Arthur is all Merlin can see. And then, Arthur pulls Merlin into a gentle hug, his hands coming to rest around the sorcerer's waist and pulling him in tight. All Merlin can sense is Arthur; the smell of sweat coming from his skin, the tickle of his hair as it brushes against Merlin's neck and his hot breath against Merlin's ear.

"You looked so scared," Arthur murmurs, his voice a whisper in the silent room, "and that was my fault. I made you look like that. I wasn't going to hurt you… I could never hurt you." Arthur shudders a little, his grip suddenly becoming painfully tight as he tugs Merlin even harder against him, as though scared that if he lets go, he'll never see the warlock again. Merlin returns the gesture, his magic seeping out of him to wrap around Arthur's body, thin gold tendrils reaching out and touching every part of Arthur they can reach.

They're neither matter nor gas, and when Arthur sees them, he tenses for a second before relaxing again and letting the wisps coil their way around his body. Where they touch, he feels pleasantly warm and tingly, his eyes drooping shut with pleasure. And then they are gone, the air around them once more peaceful and dark. Merlin frowns a little in displeasure.

"You've lost weight," Merlin remarks, scolding, and Arthur has to laugh a little at the banality of it, after everything, to have Merlin standing there chastising him on his eating habits.

"Aye," he replies, laughter tinging the edges of his voice, "marriage will do that to you." At once it is as though a shutter has gone down over Merlin's eyes, shielding the love and happiness that was just there and replacing it with a cold sort of anger.

"Ah yes. Your bride. How is Gwen?" Merlin asks, his voice cold and flat. It sounds wrong coming from Merlin, and Arthur is about to say as much when the sorcerer fakes a smile and shrugs his shoulders.

"It doesn't matter. We have more important things to worry about." Arthur doesn't know what to say, and so he stands there awkwardly, his hand worrying a loose thread at the hem of his shirt. The silence stretches painfully, and Arthur is acutely aware of every sound in the room; the struggles of the bound girl, Merlin's soft breaths and somewhere… somewhere, the warning bell of Camelot sounds.

Arthur's head jerks up in shock, his eyes wide. His gaze immediately goes to Braelyn's sword, discarded wantonly on the stone floor. He sees Merlin's foot come out, kick it towards him and gently, he kneels down and picks it up. Behind him, he can hear the bound girl struggling, but he ignores her in order to turn to Merlin and ask, steel in his voice and anger in his eyes "are there more of you?"

And Merlin can only nod and watch as a shutter comes down over his prince's eyes, shielding all of Arthur's emotions and thoughts. Without a second look to Merlin, he strides from the room, letting the door slam shut behind him.


	22. To Capture a King

The False Queen

Chapter Twenty Two – To Capture a King

Merlin stares at the door for only a moment before he is running to it, leaving Braelyn bound on the floor as he wrenches it open and bolts into the corridor. The castle is in chaos. The air is thick with bangs and shouts, the entire atmosphere a cacophony of madness. Merlin can see servants running in all directions, guards hastily pulling armour over their night clothes and Merlin even thinks he can see Leon, running across the courtyard with a small group of young looking knights. In the confusion, Merlin can hardly see where Arthur has gone, but the glint of the prince's blonde hair in the moonlight is all Merlin needs to show him the way.

Ducking and weaving to the best of his abilities, Merlin gives chase to the king. He has to shove a few guards out of the way, ignoring their shouted curses as he hurries on, feet pounding on the stone floor as he quickens his pace. Up ahead, he can still see the back of Arthur, and can tell that the prince is still speeding up. From the route that they're taking, Merlin can deduce that they're probably heading towards the throne room. He understands why at once. The Master will want to be in there, to sit in the throne that Uther left cold months ago, to revel in the fall of the Pendragons and the rise of a new order. It isn't the first time Merlin has considered this possibility, but when he had always imagined it, he had always seen it in a warm, rosy light; oppression gone and magic returned to the land. For the first time, though, Merlin isn't sure what to feel when he thinks of the Master sitting in Camelot's throne. His doubts make his feet pound ever harder onto the stone floor and his pace quicken. Before long, he is watching Arthur burst into the throne room.

He makes it in behind him before the doors slam shut, panting and breathing hard as he struggles to regain his breath. It is only then that he notices the room around him. The Master stands in the middle of the room, the Elite in a loose ring around him. Merlin can see that their flowing robes have been replaced with loose capes for the battle. The sight of them makes something low and unpleasant twist in Merlin's gut, the ominous of the setting and the anger in their eyes frightening him for the first time.

Most frightening of all though is that this is the first time Merlin has ever seen the Master's face. This is a man he has pledged his allegiance to, promised to follow into battle and Merlin doesn't even know what the Master looks like. He's starting to wonder exactly how much he knows at all. It is not a particularly fearsome face, by any means; the man's nose is hooked, his eyes fiery blue and his skin worn and weathered. But there is something in the way he stands, something in the tight tense of his shoulders and the way that he is looking at Arthur that terrify Merlin.

Arthur. For the first time since entering the room, Merlin allows his eyes to drift over to the king, and lets out an audible gasp of horror at what he sees. Arthur's body is bound in thick ropes, a gag tied tight around his mouth. Even more disturbingly, the prince seems to be immobilised in thin air, his chest not moving, his eyes motionless. He just hovers, still and silent like a corpse, cold and dead and gone. Merlin can feel his own chest contract, all of the air leaving him as he stares at his prince.

Slowly, he takes a step forward, his eyes never leaving the Master. Dimly, he wonders at how Arthur had been detained so quickly; after all, Merlin had entered the room mere seconds after the king had done. The sense of residual magic that is still lingering in the air gives him his answer, and he takes another step forward.

"What have you done to him?" Merlin asks to the silent room, his voice vibrating with barely contained anger. He feels his magic clawing its way to the surface below his skin, waiting to strike… waiting to kill. Logically, he knows that he probably isn't a match for the Master and the waiting circle of Elite around him, but he also knows that he can't just stand there and allow Arthur to be hurt.

"A simple freezing charm, Emrys," the Master says, his voice low and measured, "he has not been harmed." Merlin glances back to Arthur, taking in the tightness of his body. It does look like a freezing charm, but he wants to make sure before he goes any further.

"Dangos i mi y hud" Merlin murmurs, flinching slightly when a rush of cold floods through his veins. Unpleasant though it is, it serves to show Merlin exactly what he's looking for. Releasing the spell, Merlin turns his attention away from Arthur and towards the Master.

"Emrys, you want the same things as we do," the Master purrs, his voice low and seductive in the still room, "we should be working together." Merlin can feel a soft, luscious presence at the edge of his mind, stroking the edges of his consciousness tenderly. Keeping most of his mind locked and barred, he cautiously opens up a small part of it. At once, he is overwhelmed with a flood of images, thoughts, sounds, ideas. Images of children playing, using magic without fear, the injured being healed and the ill being treated. Merlin can see himself, standing in the halls of Camelot, laughing with Morgana and Braelyn. In the background, he can see a huge pile of food, every peasant in Camelot fed, safe and happy. And further out, bigger than any of the smaller things he'd been sensing before, Merlin can feel the deeper magic, the magic of the Old Religion creeping back into the land, making the crops grow and the very earth sing with joy.

It's tempting, it's oh so tempting and Merlin wants nothing more than to reach out, grasp that future and make it come true. Slowly, he glances back to where Arthur hangs suspended above the ground and a thought comes into his mind.

oOoOo

To be continued...


	23. And so it begins

The False Queen

Chapter Twenty Three – And so it begins…

Merlin can hardly still the racing of his thoughts. The vision of a united, magical Camelot still infects his mind like a disease, enticing him, seducing him. For a moment, the desire to make that dream a reality, to bring magic back to the land, to let it thrum and fill Camelot as it should is overwhelming. But one quick glance between Arthur and the Master shows Merlin another Camelot. One where the Master is in sole control, where power is vested only in those with the magic to fight for it. A Camelot in which those who do not have magic are shunned, and used and treated as inferior. Maybe, for a while, Merlin would have found that thought attractive; Braelyn certainly would have done. But Merlin is not Braelyn; he is barely one of the Awyren tribe.

"You're mad," Merlin says, loudly, causing the Master to glance up at him sharply and the gathered elite to mutter discontentedly for a few moments. One quick glance from the Master stills them, but it is enough; Merlin can see his way forward.

"You've been in hiding for so long, you've forgotten what we're really fighting for. You talk of living in harmony with the non-magic folk but really, all you want is to rule over them," Merlin states, watching with satisfaction as the Master twitches an eyebrow, the tick unusual in a man so highly controlled.

"All I want is what's right, Emrys," the Master demurs, his voice soft and sure in the pitch silence surrounding him. But Merlin is barely listening to his voice anymore. He's looking at the slight tense in the master's shoulders, the flicker of fear in the man's eyes. It's faint, but it's there and that's enough for Merlin.

"You really want what he wants?" Merlin asks loudly, eyes flickering around the circle in turn. He allows his eyes to rest on the gathered elite, on the men and women he has learned to both fear and respect over the past few months. He sees it in their expressions, the doubt, the uncertainty and he knows he has to act. The Master is distracted by his words, glancing to the Elite nearest to him, and Merlin knows this might be his only chance. Muttering a quick prayer to the gods for Arthur to be safe, he strikes.

"Gyfer brenin a chefn gwlad," Merlin shouts, magic rushing out of him; he can feel it rebound across the room, bounce off the walls and then break like a wave on a beach over the gathered magicians. There is silence for the shortest fraction of a second, and then chaos erupts. Merlin ignores most of the men and women around him, ignores the flying spells and half-formed pleas as the sorcerers around him choose their sides. He cannot articulate why, but he knows that neither side will attack him. Instead, his attention is focused entirely on the Master in front of him, who gives a tiny, mocking bow.

"At last," the Master murmurs, his voice quiet but still carrying over the roar of the battling sorcerers, "it begins." His attack, when it comes, is like the slither of a snake, before it strikes. Merlin can barely feel it until suddenly, there is a sharp pain in his temple, like a spike of ice being pounded into his brain and he falls to the floor, hands clutched to his temples. The Master steps towards him, eyes no longer calm but alight with blood, blood and fire and kill. His twist on Merlin's mind gets deeper, his thoughts penetrating behind barriers Merlin has spent months, no, years building up. He sifts through Merlin's childhood, derision colouring his thoughts as he views the poor hovel Hunith raised him in. He scorns at Will, laughs at his death and pities the hundreds of men and women Merlin has seen killed, all in the name of preventing sorcery. His presence is like a virus, spreading through Merlin's mind, like poison coursing through him until he feels like his head is going to explode. Merlin can feel the pressure building, can feel the pain deepening and knows that he won't survive for much longer.

And then the Master's mind touches on Merlin's sense of Arthur. On the love and affection and devotion and it's as though a spark has been struck in Merlin's mind, and he knows he has to fight back. His mind grips the invader, no longer the violated but the violator, using the Master's surprise to force his way inside the man's thoughts. It is dark in there, so dark, years of oppression and fear having twisted the man beyond what Merlin can recognise. He feels a jolt of revulsion as he sees the man's hatred, his fear and revulsion for anybody different, anyone not able to change the world with a flick of their thoughts. For those moments, Merlin and the Master are inseparable, they are one, their minds close and touching and unyielding to the outside world. Merlin can see nothing, feel nothing, all his energies focused on the one man he knows he has to destroy.

If Merlin could see with his eyes, he would see the knights burst into the room, join the fray of battle. He would see the spell that hits Elyan square in the chest, killing him instantly. He would see that the tide is turning, that most of the sorcerers are turning to his side, that the Master is almost defeated. He would see the spell that hits Arthur as well, the gash in his prince's chest gasping blood.

He sees none of these things. Instead, he sees one last smile cross the Master's lips, before Merlin crushes his mind and the world goes dark.

oOoOo

To be continued...


End file.
